


Fortuitus Familia

by akelios



Series: Playing for the Crowd [3]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 40,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25851076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akelios/pseuds/akelios
Summary: Always-female Harry and Marcone get knocked up. It goes smoothly.No, no, I swear.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Johnny Marcone
Series: Playing for the Crowd [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/12986
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for, well, a lot of this. 
> 
> I wrote this fic for the Dresden Files Kink Meme eight whole years ago and kept meaning to post it up here but kept forgetting. So here it is. 
> 
> I'm sure I've forgotten a tag, or a person, or something. No beta, we die like kinkmeme authors.

"Harry?" Marcone's voice drifted through the open door of my bathroom. I'd made him wait in the bedroom. We shared a ton of things, some of them kind of weird and others occasionally gloriously kinky, but I was not going to have him watch me pee.

I didn't answer. I was too busy staring at the two little lines that had joined the army of little lines on all the other sticks. Okay, some of them were pluses, or little smiley faces. But they all amounted to the same thing.

"Harry, if you don't answer, I'm coming in there."

I winged the latest little stick out the door. A hand caught it mid spin, without seeming to come from anywhere at all. The hand, stick and small portion of arm I could see disappeared back out of the doorway.

"Did you just catch that? Without moving?"

"Yes."

"Freak." He didn't laugh, the way he usually did, or toss back another barb. My throat tightened and I swallowed, rubbed at my face. Dammit. I rose from my crouch against the toilet and stepped over the debris of discarded boxes and wrap.

He was standing to the right of the door, the shape of my doom held loosely between his fingers. I tugged it out of his hand and tossed it back into the bathroom with the rest of it.

"Say something?"

Marcone met my eyes, unreadable to me even after all these years, and he took hold of my hand, pulled me to him. I tensed as his arms wrapped around me, hugged me to his chest. My eyes closed and I just breathed in the scent of him, warm skin, leather, the barest hint of metal from his knives. Marcone. Dangerous. Comforting. Mine. He kissed the tip of my nose, and I stepped on his foot.

"Don't go getting sappy on me here." I pulled back from him, just a bit. "Well?"

"Well what? Harry, what do you want me to say?"

"Say whatever. Tell me what you think."

"I think that we need to schedule an appointment for you. The tests could be wrong, false positives."

"Four different tests?" He shrugged.

"Unlikely, but we won't know for certain until we see a physician. And not Butters. An actual Ob-gyn." My lips twitched into a little smile. My refusal to see any of the 'company' doctors was a long standing irritation to him. I liked Butters. I trusted him. And he understood my quirky tech issues.

"What if they're not false?"

"Then we deal with that." His hand was a warm weight in the small of my back. "Harry, if it's true-" He shook his head. "It's not as simple as being happy or unhappy about it. Part of me wants it to be true. Wants a child with you. Part of me knows how difficult it would be. We are neither of us average people."

"Over achievers in nuts, that's us." I stepped away from him, out of his arms. "Fuck. Our lives are so not conducive to having a kid. Dammit!" I kicked at a folded stack of jeans on my floor. It toppled over and I glared at it.

"Let's go to lunch."

"We missed our reservation." I knew he was rolling his eyes at me, but when I turned to try and catch him at it he just had his amused and indulgent face on. "Right, right. I forgot. We'll just show up and a table will miraculously become available."

"It is one of the perks of being a pillar of society, yes. We will go to lunch, relax, and enjoy ourselves, as we planned. Tomorrow we will worry about the rest of it."

"I'm having a steak."

~

"It's a pollywog." I tapped the 'Baby Growth' chart on the wall. "See?" Marcone didn't even bother to glance up from the magazine he'd picked up.

"Harry, please sit down. The doctor will be here in just a few minutes."

"It's all bulgy...kind of looks like the Elephant Man, really." I titled my head to one side and then the other. I couldn't sit. I'd tried sitting when we first came in and I'd been drumming my heels against the exam table and cracking my knuckles inside of five minutes. So I was reading the posters. The door creaked as it opened.

"Mr. and Mrs. Butcher?" Marcone set his magazine down and turned on the charm. I smiled and felt like I was showing way too many teeth. "Hi, I'm Dr. Gregush. But please, call me Elizabeth. Or Ellie." She shook Marcone's hand and then mine. The 'wedding ring' Marcone had insisted I wear as part of our ingenious disguises pressed into my hand, new and uncomfortable. Ellie was short, maybe Murphy's height with long, dark red hair. I tried not to make snap personality judgments any more, but I kind of liked her. She just seemed...friendly.

"Now, Harriet?"

"Harry, please."

"Great. Harry. I see here you think you might be pregnant."

"Uh, yeah. I did the home pregnancy test thing, and they all came back positive, so I'm pretty sure."

"Mmhmm. Well, those are usually a fairly reliable indicator. All your vitals look good, though you're a bit under weight for your height." She looked up at me from about a mile down. I caught Marcone's smirk out of the corner of my eye. He'd been trying to feed me up since day one. It's not my fault I burn it all off. "Here's what we're going to do." She reached into a cupboard and brought out a little plastic cup. "You go down the hall, into the second door on the right. That's the bathroom. And just fill it up to here." Ellie tapped at a bright green stripe on the side. "Here's the cap. Then you come back here and we'll test it. It just takes a minute and we'll know for sure. If it comes back positive, which I'm certain it will, just to let you know, we'll get you scheduled for a pelvic exam in about two weeks and go from there. Sound good?"

No. No it did not sound good. But I took the cup and it's little lid and I went off to pee in it.

Turns out the little stick in the doctors office was in on it with the little sticks at my place.

They were all against me.

Bastards.


	2. Chapter 2

Something woke me up. I blinked into the blackness of my bedroom and waited, trying to sort out what it was. Not something threatening - my instincts had done enough of that that I knew the difference. Marcone was curled on his side, his head resting on my shoulder, squashing me between his body and the wall. I'd shoved him off the bed the first time I'd woken up like this, trapped.

Okay. Not so much 'shoved' as freaked out, kneed him in the stomach, elbowed him in the face and thrown him across my admittedly tiny room. We'd 'talked' after that. It boiled down to this: I didn't like waking up in the dark, pinned down. Marcone understood, and tried not to do it. But sometimes his subconscious got its way and he put himself between me and the door. It was some weird caveman thing. I did my best to ignore the complete lack of logic that made some part of him think that he could protect me from any threat that got through the goons he had patrolling the neighborhood, because in spite of all his denials I knew they were out there, my wards, my door, and Mouse.

But that wasn't it. I'd gotten used to that, for the most part.

No, it was the warm, gentle pressure of Marcone's hand against my belly. Not in itself unusual, but he was rubbing circles. Tiny ones, yeah. But still. I turned my head just a little so I could see his face. Hells bells. He was asleep.

Well, that answered that.

I closed my eyes and shifted, turning toward him and forcing his hand to slide over my side so that rested on my hip. I felt him stir, wake up enough to realize it was just me moving and fall back asleep. I did my best to follow him.

~

"What is this?" I held up the coffee mug Marcone had just handed me. It was full, just not with coffee.

"Orange juice. You can tell, by how orange the color is. Also, if you taste it. Oranges."

"Ha. Ha. Why is it not coffee?"

He held up one of the pamphlets Ellie had given us at her office the day before and flipped it open.

'Caffeine and Your Baby'. It was way too early for this. Especially without my coffee.

"This says that the recommended limit of caffeine intake, per day, for a pregnant woman is either one cup of regular coffee, or one soda."

"When did you have time to read that?"

"While you were in the shower." I sipped my orange juice.

"I don't take that long a shower. And I don't drink that much caffeine."

"I've seen you eat your cereal with Coke instead of milk."

"It's tasty. And a valid substitution." I ripped the top off of his chocolate chip muffin and started prying the chips out of it. "You're going to be a freak about this, aren't you?"

"I'm trying to be responsible is all, Harry."

"Uh-huh. You know you were doing the full on pregnant-woman-belly-rub in your sleep?" Marcone laughed.

"Was I?"

"Yeah. Guess you've made up your mind on that happy not-happy thing." He snatched the remains of the muffin top out of my hands and ate it.

"I told you the idea made me happy, Harry. That fact changes nothing about the situation." Marcone picked up his own orange juice and took a deep drink. "We need to decide what we're going to do. What we want to do and what is best."

"I don't-" I shook my head. "I'm only about two months along, right? So there's...that." I made an odd slashing motion through the air. Sue me. I didn't want to say the word 'abortion'. It was an option, yeah. But I really didn't want to take it. And I didn't need to. But yeah, it was there. I could feel Marcone stiffen. Modern criminal, yes. Still a man, though. And one who had a huge fierce thing about kids. "But I don't want that. I want to have the baby, okay? I just don't know if it's safe."

"Believe it or not, Harry, dangerous people have had children before." He relaxed against me. We had maybe five or ten minutes before Hendricks started knocking. "We'll take every precaution." I snorted at the irony. He ignored me, pointedly. "And we can take the time to think this through. After all, we've got another seven months or so."

"What do you think we should do?"

Marcone sighed.

"I want to tell you that I'll keep you safe. Both of you. That we can keep the baby, and raise her. But what I want may not be what's best for the baby. We can't offer her a normal life."

"No...but...could we offer him a good one?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Dresden." I put my best professional, phone voice on at the office. It was a compromise between my usual surliness and the 'phone voice' that Billy had jokingly suggested one time after a good long game of Arcanos and a few drinks. Billy was no longer allowed to play bartender during our get togethers.

"I've got a case for you."

"And a good afternoon to you too, Murph." I twirled my pen around, idly. I'd been filling out a report from my last case. Paper work. I was pretty sure it was necessary, but it was also totally boring.

"Harry." Her exasperated sigh was nearly lost to the crackle of static over the phone line. "It's a freaky one, okay?" I gave her my own sigh. They were always freaky when I got called in.

"Where do you need me?" Murphy gave me the address. It was in the suburbs, not more than ten minutes from Michael's house.

"I'm on my way."

~

It was a cute house and had that lived in look to it. Toys in the front yard, chalk art on the drive and the walk. Neat, but chaotic. A family home. Murphy didn't look out of place, standing on the porch waiting for me. I mean, unless you knew her and knew what she did for a living. Then she looked frighteningly out of place.

"Hey." Murphy nodded at me as I stepped up to join her in the shade.

"Hey Harry."

"So what've we got?" I glanced around. It was just her. Rawlins was still in the car. He waved and went back to whatever he was reading. There was no forensics van, no black and whites, nothing.

"I'm not sure. Maybe nothing. Maybe something from your side of things. CPD got a call this morning from a Mrs. James Tuck. Mrs. Tuck reported that her twelve year old son had gone missing. Officers responded and found Mrs. Tuck and her husband. They also found all three of the Tuck children. Including twelve year old Josh. Mrs. Tuck insists that Josh is not Josh. It's just something that looks like Josh. The call got booted over to SI."

"Uh, I hate to tell you your business, Murph, but did you consider she might just be off her rocker?"

"Yes. I did. But-" She held up one hand, palm up. "There's something off here. I can't put my finger on it, but honest to God, the kid gives me the creeps. And I've learned not to ignore those feelings."

"So you want me to check the kid out."

"Yeah."

"I can do that, no problem. Lead on, Toto." Murphy smacked a hand at me, not hard. More of a playful slap. I turned to catch it on my arm rather than in the stomach. I mean, it probably wouldn't hurt anything, but. But. I was suddenly paranoid. I guess I really did need to read one of those books Ellie suggested. Murph gave me a look and then led the way into the house.

The parents were sitting on the couch, waiting. Murphy made introductions but kept it brief. We all wanted to get to the bottom of this. If there was any 'this' to get to the bottom of.

"Josh's room is the last one on the left, Harry." Murphy nodded her head at the hall and I gave her a small thumbs up sign. She kept the parents busy while I headed down the hall to get a look at the kid. The rest of the house matched the lawn and the living room. Clean, neat and lived in. It was just a real comfortable place. Either way this fell out - if the kid was a shape shifter or if the mother had slipped a cog it was a tragedy. I hated to see normal peoples lives ripped apart.

I knocked on the door and received a grunt that I took for 'come on in'. So I did.

It was a typical boys room, or at least it looked like the few I'd seen lately. Messy and probably more than a little dirty under the layer of clothes and sports equipment. Josh had a thing for Legos. He had more than a dozen of the kits put together and on display all around the room.The boy in question was seated at a small desk, putting another set together.

"Hi, Josh." He didn't look up. Didn't make a sound. Just put another couple of blocks together, checking his work against the picture on the box. I moved closer to him, circling to come into his line of sight. Still no reaction. I started to get what Murphy meant - he was more than a little creepy. Nothing exactly wrong with him, but definitely something off.

I crouched down in front of him, trying to get a good look at him if I couldn't get his attention and he suddenly looked up, met my eyes straight on. Before I could look away, I felt the bottom drop out of reality and fell forward into his pale blue eyes.

It was his room, and Josh was still sitting there, putting Legos together. But there was a faint smell in the air, something rotten, dead and vile. A white haze, misty, drifted through the air and I heard a song, sung in childrens' voices fade in and out on the breeze.

"First you're sick and then you're worse, and then it's time to call the hearse..."

I knew this one. Every kid did. I found myself almost humming along to it, an old, sad feeling slipping into me. I could see Josh's lips moving along in time to the rhyme, silently.

There was something there. Curled in his black hair, nearly invisible behind one ear. I leaned forward, tried to grasp it and it moved, turned on me and lunged, quick as a snake. I jerked back, fell, and felt the soulgaze break.

"The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinochle on your snout!"

I fell backwards in reality, which is what kept the thing that shot out of Josh's mouth from hitting me in the face. My ass hit the carpet and I rolled, narrowly missing smacking my head into the frame of the bed. I grabbed the first thing I felt under my hand, rolled to my knees and smacked whatever I was holding down as the long black blur came at me over the floor.

There was a thick 'squoosh' sound along with a little crunching and black goo oozed out from around the American history book I'd grabbed.

"Ew." I pried up the edge of the book. Whatever it had been it was mush now. Slimy and black, with pieces of what looked like insect exoskeleton crushed and cracked through it. As I watched it started to dissolve, going clear and then vaporizing. Ectoplasm. I looked up at Josh. He was down, flat on his desk, passed out. I dropped the book again, let the construct dissolve on it's own and pulled myself up to check on him. He was okay. Pulse and breathing steady.

I backed out of the room and shut the door behind myself.

"Hey Murphy?" She came down the hall toward me. Quick, but not hurried. Didn't want to alarm the parents.

"Yeah?"

"I got it. Have a look." Murphy opened the door and looked in. "Creepy vibe?"

"Gone. So is this their son, or what?"

"He is. He was before too, but he had a Khan worm in his head. I smashed it."

"A what?" I shrugged.

"Brain worm. From the Nevernever."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, don't look at me. I've never seen one before, but that's what it looked like!"

"How'd it get inside the kid?"

"Don't know. I'll look into it Murph. Like I said, it's new to me. But I'll find out what it was."

"Let me know?"

"'Course."

Murphy spoke with the parents, gave them some sort of edited version of the whole 'brain worm' story and we left. Rawlins started up the car as we came out.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" I glanced back at Murph from beside the Beetle.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah. I dodged the Khan worm just fine."

"You flinched earlier. On the porch."

"Eh?" Duh, Harry. Duh. Murphy's kind of observant, remember? "Oh. Yeah. No. It's nothing. Just a little sore from sparring with Thomas. No biggie!" She didn't look convinced, but I jumped into my car and drove away before she could say anything else.

Crap. Okay, I knew I was going to have to tell people eventually. The problem with Murphy was going to be telling her who the father was.

I'd sort of neglected to mention to Murph that I was seeing Marcone for, oh, the past three years or so.


	4. Chapter 4

The books on pregnancy and childbirth were in the same aisle as the self help books and the sex books. I guess there was a theme there, somewhere. Or maybe a warning.

Sex books, then the pregnancy books a little deeper in the aisle, and then after them, the self help books. I was trying not to read too much into it.

There were a lot of books. A LOT. I had no idea how many books had been written about how to have a baby until I walked in and saw the rows and rows of them. I glanced down at the list I'd jotted down at the doctor's office. I was only going to pick up two of them.

I hurried through the aisle, feeling guilty. Which was insane. I was a grown woman. I hadn't felt this nervous and sneaky the first time I'd bought porn for Bob. Growling at myself, I straightened my shoulders and slowed down. I was an adult and I could buy any damn book I wanted. For any reason I wanted.

I found the first book on my list pretty easily. They had about twelve copies of Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the Newborn. The couple on the cover looked cute, and happy. Good for them. I was willing to bet even money that the guy wasn't a crime lord with a super secret past he wouldn't talk about and that the woman wasn't a wizard with more enemies than she could shake a stick at. And those were just the ones who were supposed to be on her side.

Not that I was feeling cranky or anything. Really.

The last one took some looking to find. It was smaller, with a much more subdued cover. Ellie had recommended it after I mentioned my 'phobia' of hospitals and doctors. Which also did a nice job of helping to explain my really incredibly sketchy medical history. I gave a little 'Hah!' of triumph when I located Ina May's Guide to Childbirth and jerked the one and only copy off the shelf. A second book tumbled out with it, Ina May's Guide to Breastfeeding and I glared at it.

"I'm not there, yet." I set the second book back on the shelf and turned to head up to the checkout. The woman a little further down in the self help section of the aisle glanced at me and my books and smiled. I nodded at her and walked on by.

"Honey?" She came up beside me, smiling and holding out another book. I stopped and smiled at her, glancing at the cover. What to Expect When You're Expecting. Huh. It sounded sort of familiar. "This one is wonderful." I took it from her. Hell, why not? It was on sale anyway.

~

"Oh. Good god." I set What to Expect down on my table and slumped back on my couch. Then I jerked back up. Was I supposed to slouch? Would slouching pinch something important, like the umbilical cord? Shit. I pretty much immediately felt ridiculous on the heels of that thought. The baby was smaller than a freaking quarter according to Ellie. Slouching was not going to affect it.

Mister hopped down from his high shelf and wandered over to me, rubbing against my legs before jumping up onto the table and sniffing at the book. He stretched, gave me a long look and started to sharpen his claws on the cover.

"Yeah. I'm thinking you may have the right idea there, buddy." Ugh. It had been informative, sure. But it seemed to be all about what could go wrong. Like every second of the day. I didn't need that. I also definitely did not need it telling me what to eat. I had Marcone for that. I was healthy. If I wanted a damn cheeseburger, I was going to eat a damn cheeseburger. "Okay. Enough of this." I picked up my Coke, which I was nursing. Only one drink a day, so it was going to have to last. Marcone hadn't been wrong about the caffeine, much as I hated to admit it.

The lab was cold, but I muttered the candles into life and fiddled with my little heater, getting it going.

"Bob! I got something new for you." Bob's eyes flickered to life in the skulls sockets without a protest or a yawn.

"Is it the latest Busty Asian Beauties?" I rolled my eyes.

"No. I just got you a new book the other day!"

"And I finished it."

"Read more slowly then." I stole one of Molly's empty notebooks off her desk and settled down on the stool next to Little Chicago. "This is a work thing. I ran into something I've never seen before today. A Khan worm."

"Really? What was it? What did it do?" See? Bob got me. Murphy just didn't get out enough.

"I don't know what it was, exactly. It was inside this kid, twelve years old. He was fine one day, sort of creepy and zombie-ish the next. I don't know how he contracted it, or where from." I sketched as I talked, my left hand steady on the pencil. One of the gifts Lash had somehow left for me. "It was black, with at least some armor plating. I didn't get a very good look before I smashed it. But it was aggressive. And I could see it in the soul gaze." Which had been weird, come to think of it. You could usually see the effects of trauma done to a person, but unless the creature was actively tied into the soul somehow, I shouldn't have seen it that way.

I held up my sketch to Bob, who looked it up and down and then rocked back, thinking.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. There was a song in the gaze. One of those creepy old kids' songs about death and dying. But maybe Josh is just morbid? I don't know. Do you recognize this thing?"

"Maybe. It sounds like a death worm." I glanced at my sketch, then back at Bob.

"A 'death worm'? What the hell is that?"

"They're pretty rare, really. And not technically worms, but that's the form they usually present." Bob cleared his throat and dropped into lecture tone. "How do really old, really powerful ghosts stick around? Typically, a ghost fades after a few decades. They can't hold on to their memories of their lives. They get stuck in a loop, right? Walk the same path, do the same thing over and over and over again."

"Unless someone interrupts them." Which I had done, once or twice. It takes a lot to get a ghost to notice you.

"Right. But what about the ones that don't get stuck in a loop? The ones that actively interact with the living world?"

"Well, they're rare. And I thought those cases were usually something else masquerading as the ghost. Having a laugh at the people or soaking up the fear they caused."

"Sometimes. Yeah. But other times it's really a ghost. What happens is, sometimes, some of them learn how to stick pieces of themselves inside of living beings. For some reason those pieces usually look like worms, if you can see them. And they feed off of whatever unlucky soul they've attached themselves to." I tapped my pencil against the table.

"The energy the pieces take in goes back to the original ghost?"

"Yup. Keeping them going. Supercharging them."

"Did my smashing this one destroy part of the ghost?"

"Probably not. I don't know of any instances of someone else squashing one like it was a bug, but ghosts aren't that easy to destroy, so I don't think you did anything except send that piece back to rejoin the main body."

"Okay. Great. So somewhere out there is a ghost that's feeding off of living people?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then all I need to do is find the ghost and banish it. And any other people walking around with these things'll be cured?"

"Yup." Bob grinned and I spun my pencil through the air. A ghost in Chicago. Needles in haystacks are easier to find.

I took a slow sip of my Coke and tilted my head back, contemplating the rough gray ceiling. The soda hit my stomach, and started a fight. My eyes went wide and I jumped off the stool, almost running up the steps into my apartment. I heard Bob yelling, "Boss?" behind me.

I made it to the bathroom, and it was just as much fun as vomiting ever is. When I was done, Mouse was beside me, a cold, wet washcloth on the sink beside his head. I gave him a bleary look. Honestly, I didn't want to know. He nosed the washcloth and I grabbed it, draping it over the back of my neck.

"It's six at fucking night, Mouse. Night. What the hell?" He whined in sympathy and licked my cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

"Special Investigations, Sergeant Murphy speaking."

"Hi Murph. Can you get me Joshua Tuck's schedule?"

"What for?" The line crackled and I stopped twirling the cord around my finger.

"I need to track down the ghost that gave him the Khan worm."

"Is that really what you're calling it?" I sipped my milk and twisted the stool back and forth, thinking.

"Well, Bob says it's called a 'death worm', but that's just boring. And kind of ominous." Mac, an angel among men, was frying me up some eggs and bacon. He didn't open up for breakfast every day, but the days he did, it was worth crawling out of bed early to get it.

"Because Khan worm sounds so much better." I thought I could hear the clack-clack of her typing. "Right. Since Josh was never physically missing, his schedule was never taken and put in the system. I'll give the Tucks a call and get his routine. Want me to drop a copy off at your office?"

"Yeah, or just give me a call. Whatever works easiest for you."

"Got it. So what is this worm thing anyway?"

"Ah, parasitic ghost bits?"

There was dead silence. I waited for a few seconds, just in case it was the line messing with me.

"Murph?"

"Incredibly, that is not a comforting idea." Mac set my plate down in front of me and I breathed in the wonderful scents.

"I've gotta go Murph. Bye!" I hung Mac's phone back up and smiled at him. He nodded and started fiddling with something behind the bar. Silence reigned for a few minutes while I ate and tried not to groan over the food. The man was honestly a genius. I dipped my toast in the yolk and glanced around. It was just me and Mac, too early for even the regulars to be there yet.

Perfect.

"So....Mac." Mac was a friend. One of the best, really. And the fact that he knew how to keep his mouth shut made him perfect for this. Start slow and work my way up to the big one. Mac came back over to me and wiped at invisible spots on the bar. "So. Uh. I'mpregnant." I shoved half a slice of bacon in my mouth and chewed slowly.

Mac stared at me for a second, blinked, and then nodded. He walked away, through the door behind the bar that led to his back room. When he came back, he was carrying a little dish of strawberries. Mac set it down near my elbow, grunted, and went back over to the grill, throwing on some sausage links.

Huh. I picked up a strawberry and bit into it, savoring the taste.

That'd gone really well.

~

Thomas' shop was busy, as usual. It was nice to see that his business was doing well, honest. I just wished he wasn't in such demand. It made it really hard to get him alone to talk.

Yeah, sure. I should have waited until after business hours and talked to him at his place. But I was planning on staying over at Marcone's tonight, and talks with Thomas were never quick and easy.

The chatter ebbed as I walked through the Coiffeur Cup's door. The regulars all gave me a quick look and then the noise level rose again, trying to cover up the pause. Having them all think I was Thomas' ex was a good cover, but it made for a lot of gossiping. There was even a betting pool as to whether or not we were ever going to get back together. The spread was against it since Thomas had 'sworn off women', but hope sprung eternal and all that for some of the ladies.

"Harry!" Thomas caught sight of me and threw his arms out, a big, booming grin on his face. I winced at the fake accent, but smiled and hugged him back. Thomas gave me a few bone rattling pats on the back and then stepped away, his smile still in place and still fake as could be.

"Thomas." I patted his arm and stepped back a little, so I wasn't standing right in the middle of his personal space. We were supposed to be ex's, remember? "Can we talk?"

"Certainly, sweet pea!" He took my arm and led me to his work station.

"No, no. I mean, like, in your office? It's kind of private." I gave a significant look to the nearest workstation, where both the hairdresser and the client were leaning a little closer to us even as they had a stilted and nonsensical conversation with each other.

"Of course."

Thomas's office was tiny, and utilitarian. It was also a disaster half of the time. All the neatness that he displayed out in public was just dropped once he was in his own private space and there was paperwork and empty coffee mugs everywhere. I grinned and took a deep breath. This was my Thomas.

"What is it? Are you in trouble?" Thomas shut the door as I took a seat, flicking the little candy wrapper off of it with one finger.

"Ah, not exactly." He sat, and I fiddled with the arm of the chair, digging my nails into the grooves of design. "You know I've been seeing someone for a while?"

"Yeeesss..." Thomas made a little 'go on' gesture as he tilted his chair back on two legs.

"Okay. So, it's John Marcone." His eyebrows went up, his blue-gray eyes wide. And then he laughed.

"John Marcone? Seriously? The guy you keep telling me is a criminal scumbag? You've been dating him?" I sighed and nodded. "For how long?"

"Umm...a few months after you moved in with me? And he is a criminal. I just happen to be having sex with him. And dinners." He gave me a blank look. "Okay, okay. Yeah. We've been 'dating'. I hate that word. It sounds like I'm back in high school."

"You've been seeing him for three years, Harry. I think you're a little past the high school phase. So what's the problem? Is he trying to-" I shook my head. Whatever Thomas had been about to come out with, it wasn't the issue here.

"Ah..." I drummed my fingers against the chair, seeking inspiration. This was much easier with Mac. "How do you feel about being Uncle Thomas?"

He laughed again and shook his head.

"That'd be great. And impossible. My father didn't leave any of his other sons alive, and I know none of my sisters are-" I sat back and watched something click in his head. His mouth sort of hung open for a second, and then he jerked, overbalanced the chair and went backward. Being Thomas, he caught himself and shot straight up, reminding me of Mister when he misjudged a landing and fell. That same stillness followed by relaxation - 'No one saw that. It didn't happen.' "How-?"

"Uh, you remember that thing where I kind of sunk the Water Beetle? And Marcone had it salvaged and repaired?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. Then. We kind of had a fight, and one thing led to another and...." I waved my hands. "Here we are!" He was still staring. "Oops?" His face finally changed, going through shock and quickly clouding over into a darker emotion.

"You had a fight and then, 'oops'?" His eyes were going gray. Ah, shit. I should not be allowed out in public some days.

"Not like that, 'oops'! God, no. Marcone would never! And even if he would, you think I wouldn't hand him his intestines?" I shook my head. "We had a fight, we got up in each others faces, anger turned into something else, and we forgot the condom, 'oops'." Thomas' whole body relaxed and he turned away from me to pick up the chair. Once he had it upright he came around the desk.

"Empty night, Harry." He shook his head. "You're pregnant!" I winced as he shouted the last word. He picked me up, hugging me again. I squeaked and wriggled. He let me go, still laughing.

The salon was silent when we came back out into the main room. Half the women were beaming, looking smug. The other half were giving me glares and I thought I saw one or two little tears.

Crap.

"Loud mouth." I glared at Thomas out of the corner of my eye. He gave me a wincing smile and shrugged.


	6. Chapter 6

"I told Thomas." The top of Marcone's head brushed my chin as he shifted, sliding his hips against mine and drawing out a slow, faint hum of pleasure. He stretched out until he was full length against me, his hair tickling my nose now. But he didn't sit up, or roll off so he could meet my eyes. I smiled, a little. So sue me. I liked the fact that I was taller than Marcone and that he didn't try to get the high ground on me to compensate.

"You told your ex-boyfriend that you're pregnant?" There was a thin thread of sarcasm in his voice and I rolled my eyes. I'd refused to confirm his suspicions about Thomas for years, insisting that he was just my last boyfriend. Marcone, being himself, hadn't been convinced.

"No. I told my brother, dumb-ass."

"Oh, really?"

"Smugness is unattractive you know."

"Is that so?" His fingers played along my side, writing his name on me as he crossed over my ribs, down my stomach, the 'e' trailing off into a meandering path over soft, pale skin until they dipped down, finding me open, aching and wet. I smacked his back, laughing.

"Very." I squirmed away, until I was on the other side of the bed. "Stop trying to distract me. I had a point."

"You usually think you do." I ignored that one. One of us had to be mature.

"My point is that you need to tell Cujo." He made a 'go on' movement and laid back on the pillows, watching me with poorly disguised heat in his eyes. I crawled over the bed, moving slowly to his side. "I told my brother. You need to tell yours."

"You do know he is not, in fact, my brother." A gun-calloused hand rose to cup my breast, warm and firm. His fingers rasped gently over the skin and I sighed at the feel of it, going tight deep inside.

"To-may-to, To-mah-to. He's Hendricks. He's the closest damn thing you've got." He rose on one elbow, tongue flicking over my nipple in a familiar movement and we lost track of the conversation for a while.

~

I grunted at the cook and shuffled over to the coffee machine, letting the various flunkies dodge me. They knew better than to stand in my way before I'd had my morning cup. The damned machine looked like some sort of alien technology and it made little tiny cups of coffee. They probably called it espresso or something. But it was caffeinated, and that was what counted.

I picked up one of the dinky little cups from beside the machine and shoved it under the spout, pressing the button.

Nothing. No annoying little hiss, no precious gurgle as the sweet nectar of life flowed into my cup. Nothing. I glared at it and tried again. Yet more nothing.

I started pushing things at random.

"It's unplugged. I'm having it taken and put in storage." I spun on my heel to find the kitchen cleared out except for my own sleepy ass and Hendricks. Cujo was sitting at the small kitchen table, a big glass of milk dwarfed in his hand. There was a second glass across the table from him, looking all frothy and cold. I growled at him.

"Plug it in, and make it make coffee."

"No."

I stalked over and threw myself into the chair.

"Look, whatever he told you, he's exaggerating. I can have coffee." From beneath his low hanging brow, Cujo's eyes called bull-shit. Dammit. Marcone was still in the shower. When in the hell had he gotten up to tell Cujo?

"You have a cup of coffee first thing, that means no more caffeine all day. No soda, no tea, nothing. All. Day." My day stretched before me, dull and decaffeinated. I whimpered and sipped my damn milk.

"Did he freaking text you in the middle of the night, or what?"

"The boss didn't tell me." I called bull-shit myself, over the rim of my glass. The milk was really good. "You've got the look, Dresden. I'm the youngest of six and the other five are all girls, and married with a dozen kids. I know a pregnant woman when I see one." I'd been telling Marcone for years that Cujo wasn't human. This just proved it. Nobody looked pregnant at two months.

He rose and took his dirty glass to the sink. "I've already got orders out for the few guys who work the grounds and smoke to quit. Chef's changing the menu to make sure you're meeting your nutritional requirements. And I've already gotten rid of all sodas. And the beer."

"I hate you." I turned in my chair and flipped him off. Which is when Marcone decided to walk in. He took in Hendricks' broad grin, my pose and expression, and very clearly decided to ignore the both of us. He walked over to the coffee machine and picked up a cup. There was a long pause, and I could feel him frowning at it.

"Why is the coffee machine unplugged?"

~

I stomped down the stairs in the movie theater, grumbling to myself. This had been my last stop on the magical mystery ghost hunt following Josh's schedule. And I had bupkiss. Well, apart from a massive headache, rampant exhaustion and the enmity of probably every person I had met because I was grouchy and tired, damn it.

If I couldn't find the ghost it meant I would have to wait until someone else went all zombie and got noticed. I hated waiting for someone else to get hurt so I could do my damned job.

And Cujo really had gotten rid of all the soda. My home supply was mysteriously missing as well, apart from a single, lonely can in my icebox. I suspected there was a plot going on. It started with the little sticks, and now involved the fucking Outfit and probably my housekeepers.

I was going to turn Cujo's hair bright purple. As an object lesson, mind. Not out of any vindictive feelings, of course.


	7. Chapter 7

Week 10

"Harry?" I flicked the bathroom light off and waited a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Marcone was half-sitting up in bed, his hair sticking up at endearingly odd angles. I felt something melt in my chest, my eyes starting to prickle. Damn fucking hormones. He was not cute and adorable. He was a goddamned mob boss and dangerous as hell. I was not going to make gushy noises at him. I was not a gushy kind of person!

"'s fine. I'm just going to go get some juice." He grunted and rolled back over to go to sleep. I envied that ability. Totally awake one second and totally asleep the next. I'd ask him where he learned it, but he wouldn't tell me.

Mouse gave me a look from his king sized dog bed beside the fireplace and I waved him off too. I didn't need an escort down to the kitchen.

When I got there, Hendricks and Gard were sitting at the table, leaning over a couple cups of tea. I froze in the doorway, suddenly unsure. They looked...close. Not just physically, but that closeness a couple had. Oooohhh....how long had that been going on?

"Are you going to stand in the door all night?" Gard shifted in the chair to look at me. I gave her a sheepish grin and stepped into the kitchen. Under the fluorescent lights, Cujo's hair looked a strange, tarnished rust color.

I'd gotten the purple to stick for a week. Cujo had worked with it though, which made it a lot less satisfying. I'd expected looming and subtle, non-verbal threats to make me take it off. Or a lot of hats. Or maybe he'd even shave his head...but no. He just went about his business. With bright purple hair. And not a single word was said about it. Not where Hendricks could hear, anyway.

The man was absolutely aggravating.

"Sorry. I just needed some apple juice." I made my way over to the fridge and dug around until I found the juice. I pulled the jug out and then stopped. The thought of apple juice, appetizing five minutes ago made my stomach do a little flop. "Crap." I put the jug back and stood in front of the open door, willing something to look or smell good to me.

"What's wrong?" Gard slid her cup across the table, making a really annoying scraping sound.

"Nothing looks good, but I'm hungry all of a sudden." And still a little nauseous. Which was weird, and tons of fun. No really. "Damn stupid hormones."

"Hormones?" It took a second, but the questioning tone in her voice finally sank through the layer of 'Feed me, Seymour!' I let the fridge door swing shut and turned to look at them.

"You didn't tell her." That might have been a little bit of glee in my voice. Maybe. It was hard to tell this late at night. Cujo shrugged and Gard looked between the two of us, little lines forming between her eyes.

"Wasn't my place."

"But you two're..." I made a vague gesture with my hands, loosely interpretable as 'making googly eyes at each other'.

"Doesn't mean we tell each other everything. You an' the boss don't tell each other half the things you should."

"Well yeah, but that's us. We're hardly the model for healthy relationships. I mean, hell, I burn something he owns to the ground at least once a year."

"Excuse me. Fascinating as this might become, what are you talking about?" Cujo and I shared another look and then it was my turn to shrug.

"Marcone knocked me up." The blank look on her face remained. I guess she hadn't gotten that bit of slang yet. "Marcone got me pregnant. I mean, I participated and all, but yeah. Marcone. Me. Baby." I patted my still flat stomach. And discovered it wasn't quite as flat as it had been a few days ago. Dammit. I stared down at it. How'd that happen so fast?

A chair scraped across the tile as I lifted the over-sized shirt I wore over boxers as pj's to pinch at my waist. Why hadn't Marcone mentioned that? He spent enough time down there...

"Sigrun?" I looked up to find Gard gone and Hendricks rising to follow.

"Where'd she go?"

"I don't know." I followed Hendricks out the door and down the hall, flicking on lights as we went. A muffled noise down a small hall that led to the garage drew my attention and I stopped, turning on the hall light. Gard was leaning against the wall, laughing.

"Found her." She turned to me, blue eyes gleaming with amusement and broke out into another bout of giggles. "What's so funny?"

"Y-you two! A child! They'll never believe me-" And then she dissolved into hysterics once more. Hendricks came up behind me and we exchanged a look.

"I think she's broken."

"It was only a matter of time. Too much exposure to you and the boss leads to madness."

Week 11

I cupped my hands around the hot mug of tea and sighed, breathing it in. It wasn't as good as coffee, but it would do for now. It was also the only damn thing I could keep in my cupboards. I'd bought more coffee and it had vanished over night.

I didn't know how he'd done it, but Cujo had gotten to Toot. He wasn't even supposed to know that Toot existed, let alone plot with him, but there we were. My little general and I were going to have to have a talk. He worked for me, not hyperthyroided barbarians.

There was a soft creak of floor board and then a light knock on the door.

"Harry?"

"Come on in, Murph." I blew on the tea and took a drink. Murphy let herself in and took a seat in the client chair, turning it a little so she could still see the door out of the corner of her eye. "What's up?"

"Is that tea?" I blinked at her.

"Um, yeah?"

"When did you switch to tea?"

"Recently." I gave her a goofy little smile. "Did you come to critique my drinking habits?"

"No. I came to take you to lunch. And to find out what you've found out about the death wo-"

"Khan. Khan worm." I stretched out my legs a little under the desk. "And nothing. I'm keeping my eyes open, but unless I trip over the ghost while it's active I might not even notice it. Chicago's kind of chock full of ghosts. Maybe I'll get lucky, but more likely we'll only find it after we get more victims." My stomach rumbled and Murphy shook her head, clearing the disappointed look off her face.

"All right. Well, let's go. Burger King, my treat."

"Ah, sorry Murph. I quit the King." Her eyebrows hit her hairline.

"You quit Burger King? But you love Burger King. Well, fine. We can go to Mac's." More growling from my stomach.

"I can't go today. I've kind of got an appointment in an hour. Sorry." She leaned back in her chair, giving me a look.

"What's going on?" I made a puzzled face at her.

"Nothing's going on, Murph." I fidgeted with my mug, realized I was doing it and stopped. Crap, damn and hell. I really hadn't figured out how to break...everything to her. So I was delaying it. Maybe she just wouldn't notice.

"You're a shit liar, Harry." She rose, unhappy. "You're not in any danger, right?"

"No. Honest. And I'm not-"

"You're lying and you're hiding something. I don't like it. But I'll let it go. For now." She left, and I locked the door behind her, sighing. I had to tell her. I really, really did. Just...not yet.

~

I lay back on the exam table and thought calm, peaceful thoughts at the thousands of dollars of medical equipment all around me.

"Are you sure Mr. Butcher isn't going to make it?"

"Positive. He's got a meeting he can't get out of." It involved someone moving in on one of his subsidiary businesses, sort of an off shoot of Executive Priority, and it was less a meeting and more a...break your knees kind of event. But, you know. Probably not something Ellie needed to know.

"Okay. Here we go." I held my breath as she spread the cool jelly over my stomach and then pressed the rounded white end of the stethoscope to it. "Breathe, Harry." She laughed at me.

Sounds started to come out of the little speaker. A long, liquid swooshing that changed to something softer as she moved the little knob around. A few seconds of that and then something impossibly fast started up. Like a tiny horse, badumbadumbadumbadum...

"Stars and stones..." I was staring wide eyed at the speaker. "Is it supposed to sound like that?"

"Uh-huh. Remember, I told you the baby's heartbeat is much faster than yours. Everything sounds good, Harry." She listened for a few more seconds, and so did I. He was doing good in there. I scrunched up, smiling down at the general vicinity of my baby.

A wave of pleased contentment washed through me, followed by a jolt. Holy shit. There was a baby inside me. A mini-Marcone-me combination.

Static and a weird electronic squelch came from the speaker and I flinched. I'd lost my calm.

"Oops. Sorry."

Ellie frowned at the machine as she set it down and started wiping off my stomach.

"Not your fault. They do that sometimes, have static. I've never had it be so loud before though."

"I'm just special that way."


	8. Chapter 8

Week 13

It was impossible for Marcone and I to kiss and walk at the same time. It didn't stop us from trying, it just never worked out. You know what I mean. Those scenes in movies where the couple is ripping off their clothes, stumbling backwards into walls and counters and crap until they find their way into the bed, all the while kissing each other passionately. Yeah. That doesn't work so well when your boyfriends eyes are level with your mouth.

Marcone's back hit the wall right next to my bedroom door and I shuddered, electricity pooling in my stomach, between my legs as he bit at my ear, curling his tongue around the sensitive outer edge. I finished pulling his shirt up, ran my hands over his chest beneath the soft fabric, skirting the edges of his rib cage, wrapping my hands around his sides to find the divots of scar tissue, one to each side of his spine, vicious and deliberate in their placement.

I pulled back, leaned down and kissed him, like I was trying to swallow his soul. His hands were hard on my hips, sliding down to grasp at the back of my thighs, pull me in tighter against him, so I could feel him through our jeans. I released his mouth, pulling at the buttons of his shirt. We bumped and slid the short distance into my bedroom and then down onto the bed, afternoon light filtering in through my high windows and curtains, making his skin glow warm and golden brown beneath me.

He sat up, forcing me to scoot back on his lap. I finished getting his shirt off, and dove for a scar on his shoulder, flat and thin. A knife, I thought. I sucked on it, flattened my tongue against it, enjoying the different feel of it. Slick-smooth over the scar, the edges a little raised, and then the tiny bumps of his skin, salty and just...Marcone.

Fingers brushed against my waist, un-snapped the button on my jeans and yanked with enough force to break the zipper. I laughed and stood, wriggled out of my jeans as Marcone lost his in two seconds flat. He was hard, slick with precome and I made an appreciative little sound as I straddled him. There was a second of hesitation, the bump and glide of his head against me and then Marcone slid inside.

A moment of stillness, silence except for the rasp of our breathing and then he rolled his hips a little, shifting himself inside of me, brushing against my most sensitive part. I clenched, felt the shudder through his body and relaxed, rose until I almost lost him, and then slid back down, inch by inch. Marcone muttered at me in Italian and bit the side of my throat, grabbed at my waist and jerked up, filling me again. I pressed down on his shoulders and fought him, rising.

His teeth gleamed in the light, and I smiled back at him, fierce.

We fucked, fighting one another for every inch, for our pace. For everything. And it was wonderful. A slow build of pleasure, pressing against me, pulsing in time with Marcone's heart gave way to a crushing tide of it, seeking escape. We knew each other, and Marcone knew when I was getting close. One hand started to ghost along my stomach, reaching for me and I caught him, pulling it away. If he touched me, it was all over.

It didn't matter in the end. My orgasm took me, rising up like the tide and taking me with it, howling and glorious. I rode it, rode him through it and felt him coming inside of me, nothing between us.

I laughed in the aftermath as he twisted, shifting us so that he could lay me on my back and slide out, slip off the bed and into my tiny bathroom.

"You're lucky I'm a confident man, Harry, or I'd be insulted. Laughing." He came back with a warm, wet washcloth, kneeling beside the bed. Usually I'd have tried to steal the damp cloth from him. I didn't like the feeling of him cleaning me up, but not today. Today, he could have his little neat-freak moment. I was busy basking in the tiny waves of pleasure still coursing through me.

His hand was warm against my stomach, a light touch and then he froze, the washcloth sliding down my thigh onto the bed. I smirked and took his hand, guided it until he could feel the hard little bump under his palm.

"He's tiny, but he's definitely in there."

"Our daughter." I didn't laugh at the unadulterated happiness I could hear in his voice, the possessiveness. But I really, really wanted to. Marcone's inner caveman, sneaking out once again.

~

"What's Murphy say?" I rolled my eyes up to look at Thomas' in the mirror. He wasn't looking at me, really. His attention was all on my hair and the wicked looking scissors he was using to cut it. At the speed the blades were flashing around my head I was glad he was paying more attention to that than to my face.

"I haven't exactly told Murphy." Nobody did still and silent like a vampire. Thomas met my eyes now, the hand holding the scissors stopped in mid-air before he slowly let it drop to his side.

"You haven't told her?" I squirmed, miserable.

"No. I can't- I'm trying to figure out a way to tell her that's going to-" I threw my hands up, scattering little chunks of hair off the smock covering me. "To mitigate the fucking damage." Thomas set the scissors down on his counter and turned my chair around to face him.

"Harry. You cannot mitigate shit here. There is nothing you can say that is going to make this better. You have been lying to her for three years."

"I never lied! I just failed to tell her. Or you. Or anyone, really, so it's not like she's been left out of the goddamned loop!"

"You. Lied. Because you knew it would be a problem. And you just kept putting it off, right? Well, you can't put it off any more." He pointed at my stomach. "Hells bells, Harry. You're going to start showing soon. Do you really want Murphy to find out from someone else? Or just walk into SI one day and go, 'Surprise!'?"

"She's going to be so pissed. I- this is just. It's not the baby. It's Marcone. She's going to hate me."

"Yeah. She's going to be pissed. She won't hate you though, Harry. It's...it's going to be a clusterfuck, no lie. But Murphy is your friend. You'll get through it."

~

I leaned on Murphy's doorbell, then knocked again. The curtains flickered to one side and then I heard the clicks of her locks being opened.

"Harry?" She kept the door partially closed, half her body hidden behind it and I knew she had her gun in the hand I couldn't see.

"Hi Karrin. Ah, we need to talk." She looked me up and down, then nodded and stepped away from the door. She didn't invite me in. That was a lesson she'd learned the hard way. I went through the door and headed to her little sitting room.

"So what do we need to talk about?" Murphy took a seat in one of the arm chairs and I took the other one. I fiddled with one of the little lacy doilies, sick to my stomach. She was going to kill me.

"Right. So. Um. There's no way to...ease into it, really. I'm pregnant." Confusion was plain in her eyes.

"Who- you're not dating anyone, are you?" I took a deep breath.

"About that. I am. Actually. I've been seeing him for three years. I just couldn't figure out how to tell you about him."

"Well that's..that's good. But- Who is it? Do I-" Murphy stopped, mid-sentence and her face went pale, then started to flush, angry. "No." She shook her head. "You- you hate him."

"No, I don't." I said it into my lap. I still had to get it out there. There wasn't going to be any confusion or lying about this. Not any more. "I'm seeing John Marcone, Murph. I have been for years. I'm carrying our baby. Mine and his." I looked at her. Anger warred with pain on her face. "I'm sorry."

She took a deep breath and let it out.

"Congratulations." She rose from the chair and turned her back to me, heading out of the room. "You're fired."

"Murphy-" I started to follow her and she turned. There were tears in her eyes, angry and glittering and her hand shook, just a little.

"Don't. You- you're compromised Harry. You can't work for SI anymore. My God, you're fucking Gentleman Johnny Marcone! Every case you've ever touched is fucked! Do you get that?!"

"But I haven't- I wouldn't- none of the cases I've worked on since we started seeing each other have anything to do with Marcone."

"Can you prove that you weren't already fucking him when Tommy Tomm and Jennifer Stanton were murdered? Or what about when we had those werewolf killings?"

"But we weren't!"

"That's what you say, Harry. But you can't prove it. Everything. It's all suspect." She slumped a little. "What if something did come up. What if we had a case where Marcone was implicated. Could you help send him to prison?"

I wanted to say 'yes'. But I didn't. It would have been another lie. I don't think I wouldn't fudge with any evidence for him, but would I help send him away? No. No.

"No." It sounded small and miserable, even to me. She nodded.

"Of course you couldn't." Murphy headed for the front door and I followed her. "And that's why you're fired Harry. Goddammit! If this gets out...if I don't bring it up and they find out some other way, Harry, I will lose my job! Hell, I'd probably lose it anyway." I wanted to reach out to her, to hug her. Something. I just stood there, like a lump. "Just go, Harry. I'll- I'll call you. Later. I need to think."

I went. I couldn't even blame the tears drying sticky on my cheeks on the hormones.


	9. Chapter 9

Week 14

"Bob, where'd I leave that bottle of cola syrup? I can't find it." I drummed my fingers along the edges of the wire baskets as I rummaged through them. I needed that damn syrup for the base of this potion and it wasn't where I'd left it.

"Third basket to your left, behind the dragonfly wings."

"I already looked there." I moved to the right basket and dug through it. Then I pulled everything out and laid it all out on my work table and Molly's desk. No syrup. "It's not here, Bob."

"Then you took it out of the lab." A page turned and I growled, kicked at the leg of the desk. I had not take the bottle out of the lab. Maybe Molly...no. My apprentice was very, very careful about putting things back where she found them, after the 'Nair' Potion incident. I don't know why she whined so much. Her hair grew back.

"Bob, have the house cleaners been down here?"

"Mmm...no. Just that little faerie of yours."

"Toot?" He nodded, absently. "Dammit!"

I stomped up out of the lab and dropped my robe over the arm of the couch, grabbing up my coat as I went out the front door. There was a spot in the back yard, inside a big stand of trees where you could go and not be seen. I stood there and called for Toot-toot.

My little general showed up inside of five minutes, a blur of scarlet light that you'd never notice unless you were looking for it. When he stopped, hovering in front of my face I had to stare. He'd lost the military uniform somewhere along the way and found a little suit.

"Is that a fedora?" I leaned closer to peer at it. It was. It was a tiny, tiny fedora. Toot beamed, literally. He was starting to radiate a little sparkling light.

"Yes my Lady!" I held out a hand and Toot landed, the weight taking me by surprise. I was right, he was growing. "General Hendricks helped me get a new uniform!" He strutted, showing off. He looked a lot like a classic movie gangster, the effect only being ruined by his lavender hair sticking out from under the fedora and his bare feet. His box cutter's bright orange plastic had been painted matte black.

"Oh he did, did he. What else has Cujo been teaching you? And why the hell are you talking to Cujo anyway?"

"Since you and the Baron are joining your houses, I have to talk to his general too! He knows lots about being general! We have to have the same uniform, so we don't get mistaken for enemies." He tugged at the lapels of his jacket. I could feel a twitch starting up in one eye.

"Marcone and I aren't joining anything. We're still Harry and Marcone. Separate. Just..with a kid." I eyed him. He hadn't changed the uniform until really recently. "You haven't been talking to Hendricks for very long, have you?" He gave a surprisingly full bodied snort.

"For ages Harry. Ages and ages." Of course, ages could have been a week to Toot. His sense of time was not precisely reliable. He thumped his little butt down in the middle of my palm and crossed his legs. "The uniforms didn't matter until now. But now we're all together, so we had to change. You're not just sporting anymore." I shook my head. I was not going to argue with Toot about it and this was making me lose sight of the original problem anyway.

"Toot, you're still my general, right?" He nodded, the little hat flopping off his head and into his lap. Toot performed a little flip with it, threw it into the air and it landed on his head. It really was cute. "Then why are you stealing my things? I'm missing coffee, soda, and now there's a potion ingredient missing from the lab, Toot. That's no good."

"General Hendricks explained about human babies, Harry. And he buys stuffed crust pizza. Stuffed crust. You can't have those things back. It's for your own good." He crossed his arms and I had to bite my lip. Toot was trying to imitate Hendricks' looming pose of authority.

"Okay, but I'm over that now. I don't want the coffee back." Not for another six, seven months at least. "But you can't just go around taking my stuff, Toot. I need that bottle of syrup back. It's not the same thing as the sodas. I don't plan on drinking it. I need it for a spell."

"I turned it over to General Hendricks, with all the other counterbands."

"That's okay. I'll get it back from him. But from now on, Toot, you don't take things without checking with me first. Got it?" He hopped up, saluting.

"Ayeaye, ma'am!" And then he was gone. I sighed and headed back into my place. Toot could be excused for not knowing the difference between soda and the syrup. Hendricks damn well knew better.

Hendricks answered on the second ring.

"You're an ass, Cujo. A giant, flaming ass and I'm going to turn you blue. Like a fucking Smurf."

"It's always a delight to hear from you."

"Stop getting Toot to steal things for you. He doesn't know any better."

"He came to me, Dresden. The little guy wants to do his job right. So I'm just making sure he knows everything he needs to know to take care of you. Why is that a problem?"

"Because-" I broke off, shaking my head. "I don't need taking care of, you giant lug. I'm pregnant, not helpless." I hung up on him. A soft creak brought my head around to the still open door into the lab. And to Molly's head ducking down just a split second too late. "Well, hell. Where do you think you're going?"

She popped back up, smiling sheepishly as she climbed up into the apartment.

"So, I guess you forgot I was coming over?"

"I've had a few other things on my mind."

"Yeah, I guess so." Her eyes lit on the phone before going straight to my middle. "Really?"

"Don't tell your parents. I am so very much not in the mood for that lecture, okay?"

"Sure."

~

Charity called me a little bit after eight.

"You and your boyfriend will be coming to dinner next Saturday at seven."

"Uh?"

"Dinner. Seven. Michael and I would like to meet him."

Damn. I was obviously not instilling the proper amount of fear in my apprentice. Then again, it was Charity. I'm not sure I was up to out doing her.

~

"'lo?" I blinked sleepily at the clock over my fireplace. Hells bells, it was only eleven. I'd been asleep for maybe an hour and a half. On the couch, again. My neck and back were cramped and I started to stretch out, slowly. I shouldn't sit up and read. I was going to burn the place down or throw out my back.

"Harry?"

"Murphy!" I was wide awake. She sounded cautious. But she was on the phone, so that was an improvement, right?

"I've got a body down at the morgue I need you to take a look at. Can you come down?"

"Ah, Murph, what about...Marcone." And all the issues that came with him.

"It's not- it's not a case. So it's off the clock. But I think it's related to that thing with the Tuck kid. You're blacklisted from CPD forever, Harry. Nothing is going to change that." I thought I heard her sigh down the line. "Are you coming or what?"

"I'm coming."

~

Murphy met me outside, leaning against the wall of the old building. I did my best to smile at her and think happy, friendly thoughts. Like I could force everything to be okay if I just acted like it was. She smiled back, politely, but there was no warmth in it.

"Butters is waiting for us." Murphy dove right into it, pushing off the wall and leading me into the morgue. I followed, quiet. "This guy, Mr. David Wadsworth, calls out sick from his job for a week. Someone gets nervous when they don't hear from him, so they go around to his house. He's sitting in his living room, staring at the tv. Nothing they do gets his attention, and his skin is clammy, pulse jumping all over the place.

"They call an ambulance, but by the time the EMT's get to him, he's just stopped. Dead. Bam."

"Drugs?"

"Nothing." We turned a corner and I could hear Butters' voice speaking into a tape recorder. Murphy stopped. "Butters didn't find anything weird. But the symptoms the guy described. Maybe it's nothing. But I've got the feeling that the two are connected."

"I'll look at him." She nodded.

"I'll be out here. I want to talk to you when you're done." Murphy's mouth twisted. "It's not about the case."

I poked my head into the examination room, waving at Butters. He flicked the recorder off and put it down on the side of the room farthest away from the body.

"Hi Harry! I hear congratulations are in order." The little ME was going to break something if he didn't tone down the smile. At least someone in the building was happy.

"Thanks, Butters. Can I see the body now?" He bustled back over to the exam table and it's sheet covered contents. On the way, he reached up to pat in my shoulders general vicinity.

"She's mad, but you two'll make up."

"I'm not sure you make up from this kind of thing. I fucked up."

"My God! So you did. The great Harry Dresden, not perfect. How ever will the world continue to spin?"

I gave him a little smile and turned my attention to the body. He hadn't been a very large man, thin but without any muscle. Light brown hair that almost hid the gray that was sneaking in and darkly tanned skin. Which was a trick in early fall in Chicago.

I didn't see any obvious signs of trauma, aside from the closed incision on his chest, so I pushed my magic out toward the body, seeing if there was any residual feeling of the ghost. Nothing. Okay. Fine. Just a quick peek with my Sight. I owed it to Murphy.

I regretted it. He hadn't been dead for very long, so there was still an echo effect of his spirit left behind. The soul itself had moved on, but I could see a pale after image of it. His soul wasn't the worst thing I'd ever seen, but it wasn't pretty either. The damage was all to his head. It looked like a piece or wormy driftwood or an ant farm. Thin bits of solidity riddled with holes. He'd been eaten, and his body hadn't been able to deal with the strain of the damage. I looked away, shut my Sight back down before I could see anything else.

"You okay, Harry? You're kind of pale. And your nose is bleeding." Butters handed me a tissue, and I wiped at the blood on my upper lip, packing it against my nose.

"Fine. Thanks." I slumped against a wall, suddenly very tired. If I'd found the ghost, David Wadsworth would still be alive. I'd missed something, and it had killed a man. "Thanks for letting me take a look." I patted Butters' shoulder. "I'll talk to you later."

Murphy was waiting for me.

"It's the same thing." I closed my eyes. They were dry and aching. "I'm sorry, Murph. I didn't think these things killed people. Bob said they weren't destructive to the host. I screwed up."

"You couldn't know." She reached out and took my hand, squeezing. "You can only work with the info you have, and I know you were looking for this thing. We'll just have to look harder now. I'll cross check the paths of our two victims, see if there's any overlap."

"Thanks." I opened my eyes and smiled down at her. "Find it and I'll go kick it's ass." We let go of each other and Murphy rocked back on her heels. "What'd you want to talk about?"

"This." She picked up a small backpack and handed it to me. "These are copies of some of the crimes we suspect Marcone's involvement in. We can't prove anything, of course. But I want you to look at them. I think he's got you blinded to who he really is, Harry."

I took the bag and opened it up, pulled the first file out. I flicked through it, seeing the crime scene pictures. A young man, dead on the ground, beaten. A single gunshot wound to his temple. The report gave more detail. He'd been a drug dealer, suspected of selling to a high school student who'd overdosed. I snapped it closed, dropped it back into the bag and rifled through some of the others, feeling Murphy's eyes on me the whole time. Pimps, drug dealers, rapists. Thieves who didn't pay their dues and who accidentally fell down stairs. I'd seen worse than the damage done to some of them. Some of it made my throat tight.

Through it all, I saw Marcone's eyes. The cold, unfeeling shine of them while he was working. Irritated when I did something particularly obnoxious. Laughing, smiling. Quietly shocked and wondering sometimes, when he thought I wasn't looking.

The last folder was Amanda Beckitt. There was no autopsy photo, of course. But the crime scene itself told the story, and the pictures of her clothes, bloodstained and that one deadly hole. I ran my thumb over the curve of her cheek in a school photo that had been included and I shook my head, put it back with the others and handed the bag to Murphy.

"I know exactly who he is, Karrin. I always have." I shrugged, helpless. "It doesn't matter. I'm not a good person. I've killed. I've even enjoyed it, on occasion." I would never lose the memory of the satisfaction I felt seeing those ghouls burn, burning away my sorrow over the children they'd murdered. "Maybe we deserve each other."


	10. Chapter 10

Week 15

"We can't go." I leaned against the door of Marcone's insanely huge bathroom, watching him finish shaving. He rolled his eyes to mine in the mirror and gave me a questioning look. "I'm feeling kind of sick."

"That's sudden. You were fine half an hour ago." 

Right, so maybe having Marcone fuck me up against a wall before I tried to pull a sickie hadn't been the cleverest idea. It was just- he really, really liked the little baby belly I was sporting. It wasn't huge or anything, but it was definitely there, a gentle bowing out. And I really liked that he really liked it. One innocent thing, like Marcone rubbing my belly would lead to another and then we were traumatizing some of the wise guys and having sex on the dining room table. It was a vicious, vicious cycle.

"This is going to suck. Charity and Michael. I love them, really. But they, ah, had issues with my life before they found out I was, not only having premarital monkey sex but had gotten knocked up. There will be lecturing. And pointed questions about when we're getting married. Invitations to Mass!"

"Would that be so bad?" Oh, right. I kept forgetting Marcone was Catholic. Sort of. He made it easy to forget though. He went to the crack-o-dawn Mass on Sundays, and I slept in if we were sleeping over. He never asked me to go, though I had once or twice and he never made an issue out of it.

"Ah, you know I don't mind the ceremony. I even like the Latin one. It's pretty to listen to. But I don't believe, and it's kind of...I keep waiting for lightning to strike me or something."

"Not the Mass, Harry. Marriage."

My brain froze up. Marcone was cleaning up the counter, shuffling things into order after I'd messed them up earlier while I was getting ready. Asking me. No. He couldn't really be asking...

"Do you want us to get married, John?" He sighed and stopped moving, finally turning to look at me.

"I wouldn't mind, Harry. But, practically, it wouldn't change anything between us. You're mine."

"Possessive jerk."

"True." He ran his hand down my back, over my side, my thigh, smoothing out the fabric of the dress I'd opted for rather than the stretchy maternity pants. "And I'm yours. Neither of us shares well, though I hold out hopes-" I snorted, smiling.

"I told you. I'm not averse to having sex with Sigrun, I'm just not sure we'd want an audience." I pinched him, a little. He shook his head. It was a moot point. Neither one of us was willing to share, really.

"We're good where we are, Harry. Do you feel guilty that we're not married?"

"Of course not." I slipped my fingers into the waistband of his slacks, finding nothing but skin beneath them.

"Then don't let your friends make you feel guilt that doesn't belong to you. Your life isn't theirs, and what works for them does not work for us. They mean well and they say what they do out of love, or they wouldn't be your friends."

"Mmmhmmm. Just keep that in mind while Charity is ripping you a new one. Politely. With smiles and food. Also, remember that the last time Michael saw you, you were responsible for the theft of the Shroud of Turin."

"I did give it back."

"Eventually."

~

"Hi Michael!" My friend opened the door, his smile only getting broader as he took a good look at me. I smiled back in self defense until Michael swooped out of the doorway and hugged me. I patted his back, feeling incredibly awkward and I could feel Marcone's choked back amusement from behind me.

"Harry! I'm so glad you could make it." He stepped back, releasing me and finally got a look at Marcone. His face didn't fall, but it sort of solidified a little. This was going to be so much fun.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carpenter." Marcone stepped forward, holding out his hand. He had a smile on his face. Not quite the empty schmoozing smile, but close.

"We've met before." Michael took his hand, and they shook.

"Yes, but I don't believe we were properly introduced." Their knuckles started to turn white, pressure marks appearing where their fingers pressed into flesh.

"Things were a little hectic at the time. Regrettably, one of the first things to disappear in a crisis is manners." I swear I could hear their bones creak and grind together. Spare me. I slipped around Michael and into the house before they could whip their dicks out to measure.

"Charity?"

"In the kitchen." I followed her voice and the smell of really, really good cooking to the back of the house. Charity was just setting a meat loaf that looked like it belonged in a photo shoot on a serving tray. She looked up as I came in and smiled, friendlier than I'd ever seen from her before. "They're still in the front door, aren't they?"

"Last time I looked, yeah. They were busy grunting at each other and trying to break their hands." I picked up a salad dish and headed out into the dining room. "That looks really good, Charity."

"Thank you." She followed with the meat loaf and set it down, taking one last look over the table. "The kids are over at my mothers, so it's just us."

"Ah. I thought there was a distinct ring of silence in the Carpenter enclave." I'd been kind of hoping that the kids would form a buffer between us and whatever lectures were coming. So much for that idea. "I'll just go get them."

"Don't bother. Michael knew how close dinner was. He'll have wrapped it up already and be headed back." She gestured for me to take a seat, so I did. My stomach was suddenly, achingly empty. I was starting to feel like a zombie. Maybe I should shuffle around moaning 'Foooodddddd'. Sure enough, Michael and Marcone showed up a few seconds later. Neither one of them was smiling, but they weren't bleeding that I could see and they didn't look mad either.

Marcone took the seat to my right and I found his arm under the table, catching his watch and running my fingers along the inside of the band, feeling the runes I'd etched into it years ago and renewed every week since. He turned his wrist, caught my hand and brought them both up onto the table in plain sight.

~

Dinner went well. No, really. It surprised me too. We ate and chatted almost like we were all normal people. Yes, we talked about my pregnancy, but it didn't take up the entire conversation, which was one of the things I'd been worried about. Molly's progress was a hot topic, as well as all the work Michael was having to do to keep everything in the house working around her. 

Michael's construction business was doing well, and Charity was thinking of designing and selling jewelry. After all, she had all the metal-working experience she'd ever need. She could do the big stuff, like Michael's breastplate as well as the finer work. The designs on his armor were gorgeous.

We sort of danced around Marcone's business, talking about his charitable work and the few things that were entirely on the right side of the law.

It was after dinner, when we were starting to clear the table that Michael touched me on the arm and asked me to follow him out to the workshop. I gave Marcone a look, which he ignored, and followed.

"Father Forthill told me that you had him take the coin." This...was not the conversation I'd thought we'd be having. I mentally spluttered for a second, shifting gears.

"Yeah. I- Lash is dead. I wanted the coin gone. The temptation to, to touch it again and get her back." I wrapped my arms around myself and stared out into the darkness of their yard. "It wouldn't have been Lash, but the thought was there."

"What do you mean, 'Lash is dead'?" Michael looked puzzled, and concerned.

"The shadow. Lash. I named her. She died, saving me back in the Raith Deeps. There was a huge thing and Cowl showed up, tried to fry my brain. Lash took the bullet." His hand rested on my shoulder.

"Harry, it wasn't real. The Fallen's shadows are there to tempt you. It was never your friend." I rolled my shoulder, shifting him off me.

"No offense, Michael, but you don't know jack about this. I lived with her. She started out like you say, a shadow of Lasciel. But she grew. She became her own person. Lash didn't have to die for me. She chose to save me. I'm not going to cheapen that sacrifice by pretending it was all a part of a plot." Michael took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. "Is this what you wanted to talk about? Lash?"

"You're pregnant Harry. If you still had the shadow, it could convince you to take up the coin. And then Lasciel could affect the baby while it was still inside of you. I wanted to warn you. To caution you to lay aside your magic and starve the shadow out."

"Oh. Well, thanks. I guess. But...I'm not giving up my magic, ever. And like I said, Lash is dead. And I have a really, really strong urge to never see another of those damn coins again. So I won't be picking up another hitchhiker."

"Good. I'm glad." He grinned. "What did you think we were coming out here to talk about?"

"Oh," I flushed. "I thought you were going to give me the 'living in sin' speech. Followed by a healthy dose of 'get thee to the altar'." He laughed. Michael had a wonderful laugh, warm and homey. I hugged him, impulsively, and then stepped away, embarrassed that I'd done it.

"You're an adult, Harry." He was still smiling, laughter in his voice. "While yes, I'd love it if you would get married and settle down, find someone who made you as happy as Charity and I are, I'm hardly going to lecture you about it. You'd stick your fingers in your ears and go 'lalalala' while I did it, then run off and do what you wanted anyway. I have had some experience with your personality before you realize."

"He does make me happy, you know. When he's not pissing me off or worrying me."

"Just the same as Charity and I, then." We started to head back to the house. "He seems...nice." I elbowed him. He laughed again.

~

"It could have been worse."

"You two stood at the front door and tried to make each other cry for five minutes."

"And yet there was no lecturing, and no blood shed. We all had a pleasant meal." I slid, a little awkward, out of the backseat of the car, glad that Marcone had an attached garage. My tights were thick, but it was still getting chilly out. The door into the house opened up and Cujo stood there. Not blue, by the way. I'd decided against the actual Smurfing.

"Boss. Dresden. We've got a visitor."

"Who?" Cujo shook his head. "I don't know. Ms. Gard's got her in the front room, waiting. Says she's Sidhe. She wants to see Dresden." A flicker of dread hit me. There were really only two Sidhe women interested in me and I didn't want to see either one of them.

"Red or white hair?"

"Red." I groaned and considered getting back in the car. No. She'd just track me down later.

"Who is it?" Marcone and Cujo were both looking at me, waiting.

"My god-mother."


	11. Chapter 11

"The Leanansidhe?" Marcone caught my arm, starting to move us forward into the house. I wasn't dragging my feet. Really. I was just tired.

"She's the only one I've got, yeah." My head hurt. It had nothing to do with the baby, or any actual physical illness and I knew it. I did not really want to see Lea. The sidhe woman was...well, the last time I'd seen her she'd been locked up in Mab's tower and crazier than a bedbug. I was going to assume she was 'better', or Mab wouldn't have let her out, but even before she'd slipped a cog she hadn't been the most stable creature I'd ever met.

And she was still the closest thing to family I'd had for years before I found Thomas. As weird as that made some things, it was true. 

Right. So maybe I was a little nervous about seeing her.

"Mr. Hendricks, if you could fetch the gift?" I shrugged off Marcone's arm and started walking ahead of him. Gift? What gift? "Harry and I will be entertaining her godmother."

"You can't give her a gift, Marcone. She's sidhe. I thought you knew this stuff. Haven't you been paying attention?"

"I am not supposed to give her a gift that she cannot immediately return a like value for because the sidhe do not like to owe others. However, as she is your godmother and this is my first meeting with her, it is appropriate that I give her a token of appreciation. 

"The token must be worthy of her, and display my seriousness in courting you as well as my ability to provide for you. As such, it is not a gift so much as it is something that is owed to her already." He caught up to me, catching my arm again to try and slow me down. "I have been paying attention."

Marcone somehow managed to get in front of me just in time to grab the door and beat me to opening it. I gave him a small frown, but didn't fight him for the door like I usually would have. We were playing it old school I guess.

Gard rose and turned to greet us, nodding to Marcone and giving me a quick smile and a pat on the shoulder. She retreated into the background, not leaving the room but giving us the illusion of privacy. 

Lea looked the same as always, perfect. Her dress looked like something out of the Lord of the Rings, sea green and so light that it looked like it might float off on its own any second. I guess she was playing the 'elf' thing to the hilt, in spite of her delicately rounded little ears and the fact that she wasn't an elf at all. Her long red hair was like fire flowing over the dress, beautiful and impractical. There were streaks of white in it now, accents more than something that hinted at age or frailty. 

Her golden cat's eyes lit with an inner fire as she rose from her place, setting a little china cup down on the table as she did so.

"Harry! My dear child!" Lea came forward, all grace and power and I moved away from Marcone, let her hug me. It was strangely comfortable, in spite of the sensation of being enveloped in a low level electrical field. I found myself leaning into her, hugging her back and the realization startled me. I didn't do anything stupid like jerk away or scream imprecations at her, I just slowly eased back, ending the hug. Lea was smiling, her sharp little teeth denting her lower lip just slightly. "It is such a pleasure to see you again, my goddaughter."

"And you, godmother. Are you well?" She patted my hand and stepped away, one hand rising to the largest streak of white in her hair.

"Better and better, dear child. My queen has healed me, and what little price I had to pay for it is well worth it. I am able to resume my duties and obligations once more." Her eyes went past me to Marcone. "Especially my duties to you, my sweet." I shifted so that I could see Marcone as well. Time to play hostess. Crap. I sucked at playing hostess.

"Godmother, may I introduce the Freeholding Lord, Baron John Marcone?" Lea's smile got broader, and her teeth seemed to get a little bit longer. I kept a good grip on her arm. If she'd been human, I would have been leaving bruises. As it was, she gave me an indulgent look out of the corner of her eye as Marcone gave her a short bow. "Baron, may I present my godmother, the Leanansidhe." Lea gave Marcone a shallow nod and their eyes never left one another. Stars and stones, it was like watching Murphy and an opponent circling each other on the mat.

"Lady Leanansidhe, it is a great honor to meet you." Marcone had his politician smile on, and it matched Lea's for sincerity. Jungle cats, the both of them. "Harry has told me so very much about you." Like how she tried to turn me into one of her hounds. And the whole sanctuary thing after Justin. Which had pissed Marcone off something fierce, for some reason. "I trust you have found my hospitality to your liking? I apologize for not being here to greet you myself, but we were not informed of your visit before hand."

"Baron. I have been hearing tales of you, as well. Though my goddaughter had not seen fit to mention you at all." Words innocuous, voice purring and it still made me worry. But maybe I was just being paranoid again?

"Hey, maybe we all want to go have a seat? I could use some tea. Yeah." I tugged at Lea, leading her back over to the chairs. Marcone pulled my chair out for me, and we struggled to do the sit and scoot in thing without embarrassment. Lea managed it with feline grace, as she did everything else. I poured some tea and sipped at it, watching the two of them. No one was saying anything, but I didn't doubt there was some sort of communication going on between them. Pheromone scenting or whatever. I wouldn't put it past Marcone.

The door didn't squeak when it swung open, but the click of the handle turning alerted us to Hendricks' entrance. He crossed the room, silent and graceful in spite of his size, a large flat jewelry box held in his hands.

"Sir." He leaned down, handed the box to Marcone and then backed away to join Gard against the wall.

"Lady Leanansidhe, as I said, my Harry has told me much about you." I resisted the urge to kick him under the table, but it was close. "Including the aid you have given her in the past and the great care you showed her when she was young." Marcone had thrown things when he'd first heard about her method of care. I still didn't get it, and he'd stopped trying to explain because it just pissed him off again. But you couldn't see any hint of that in him now. My word, the man was slick. I felt a little fire of appreciation for him in my heart. "It is not much, but I would like to repay your kindnesses to her with a small token. I understand how valuable the gift of your guardianship is to Harry and how much you must care for her, as I do."

Marcone put the box down and slid it across the table toward Lea. She licked her lips, highlighting her teeth once more and then reached for the flat box, placing it in front of her. A genuine smile curled her lips as she opened the box and I leaned around, trying to get a look. Lea chuckled and turned the box so I could see.

"Holy crap!" I was a necklace, a huge gold thing, darkened slightly with age, giving it a pleasant patina. The filigree work was studded with diamonds, just a little hint of sparkle in the darkened metal. But what made it spectacular were the twelve opals set in it. The smallest one was maybe half the size of my thumb. I didn't even really do jewelry, or at least nothing so heavy as this looked, but even I knew it was something special.

"Very nice, Baron, very nice. It is good to see my goddaughter has chosen someone who observes the proprieties. I've long despaired of her habits, but I see perhaps some of my lessons have sunk in." She ran her fingers over the jewels and then shut the case, leaning over to stage whisper at me. "You've chosen well, dear. At least he has an estate and understands your worth. And he is...what is the modern term..." She snapped her fingers idly in the air. It was all a show. Lea knew exactly what she wanted to say. I rolled my eyes, groaning. "A crimelord?"

"I prefer to think of myself as an entrepreneur. 'Crimelord' seems so crass." 

"As you like. A robber baron at the least, though. I have heard many, many things about you." Lea settled back in her chair. Her teeth seemed to have gone back to normal. Sharp, but no longer quite so large, though they had never seemed strange on her face. "For the most part, I approve of what I hear. You are clever. That much is clear, to have won your way into the Accords. The first mortal ever to do so. Very nice. You don't lack for courage, and you understand the obligations of a lord to his people. So refreshing. Fierce." Lea was purring, a low rumble that resonated in my chest. "An excellent choice for a mate, my love." Lea trailed the tip of one finger along the top of the table.

"Lea, godmother, I didn't-"

"Hush. I came to see him for myself, and to judge his worthiness. You'll forgive me for saying so, but your judgment is not always the best, around men. You underestimate them all the time. Perhaps it's my fault, though I did the best I could." She sighed, sounding very put upon. "You understand, Baron, that I do love my goddaughter. She is precious to me. Precious for the sake of her mother, with whom I made my bargain, and precious in her own right. I would take it ill, should you not take great care with her." Lea flexed her fingers, idly, and the room's temperature dropped by several degrees.

"I understand, of course. And I agree that Harry is precious. I would give much to be able to protect her from everything. But then I would have to be wary of Harry's retribution. She is...herself."

"Too true. She hardly lets one do a thing for her. And to do otherwise would make her unhappy. We can't have that, can we? It is a delicate line those who love her must walk." Lea leaned forward, eager. "We are family now, are we not? Perhaps one day you will come and see my kennels. I am quite proud of my hounds, Baron. They are keen and swift, and never miss their prey. It's very impressive, watching them bring down their prey. Though perhaps the screaming will disturb you. Those who offend me often seem to lack the strength to remain silent during the hunt. But you wouldn't, would you? Seeing their bright eyes glinting after you, hearing the howls, I think you'd remain silent, wouldn't you?" Her eyes were bright, eager as she met Marcone's gaze. I stared at them, trying to decide whether or not yelling at one or the other would do any good. And which one I should yell at.

"Maybe some day we can come see your kennels. They sound...exciting." Marcone leaned back in his chair, every line at ease and made a small gesture in Hendricks' direction. "We have already eaten, I'm sorry. But perhaps you'd care to join us for desert?"

Lea grinned, delighted. Crap. I think she liked him.


	12. Chapter 12

Week 17

The delivery room was cold. It shouldn't have been, there were so many people in it that the room should have been stifling hot. Should have been too crowded to move. I pushed through the crowd, and it was both easy and slow, as if the room just kept getting bigger, stretching out so I couldn't get to the table.

Over the low murmur of voices I could hear the heavy, labored breathing of the woman on the table, her pants and the muffled grunts and groans. She wasn't screaming, like the women did in movies, just working through the pain.

I pushed through, stumbled out into a little clear space around the table and nearly tripped into it.

My mother was tired, sweaty and flushed. The doctor said something and it sounded like the adults in Peanuts. She rolled her eyes at him, a flash of teeth and then she was pushing. I felt the curse coming, that dark, evil mass of energy that I had touched before. I could see it in her face when she felt it too. No fear, but pain and anger. Regret.

Her eyes flashed, she screamed at the doctor, but there was suddenly no sound. He blanched, but there was a flurry of movement and a tiny, wrinkled shrimp of a baby was there, held in the doctors' hands, carried away from the table to be measured and weighed. Her- my little mouth was open, screaming, but I couldn't hear any of it. I didn't bother to watch the doctor and nurses taking care of me. I knew how that part of it ended. I watched my mother. Watched her lips move, felt the spark of the spell she sent out, attaching itself to me to mirror one she'd laid on Thomas years before. She propped herself up, the closest thing to standing she could manage, and gathered her will and her magic, digging deep.

The entropy curse hit her, and everything went wrong. Monitors went haywire, electronics sparked and exploded and the lights went out, leaving us in darkness. But I felt her death curse rush past me.

I gasped, choked, and kicked as I woke up. Mister gave a rough, unhappy mrrowl from the floor, where I'd kicked him off the bed, and I heard Mouses' soft, steady steps come into the room. My heart was going a mile a minute and I was shaking just a little.

"Fuck." I shoved at the pillows behind me and slowly rolled onto my back, waiting a few seconds before I tried to sit up. "Damn dreams." Mouse set his chin on the edge of the bed, giving me a sad, sympathetic look. I swung my legs over the side, bare feet cold on the floor and pulled his head into my lap, nose brushing the ever growing swell of my stomach. "Just a dream, buddy. It doesn't mean anything." I took a deep breath, taking the cold air of my apartment in and a little fluttering movement started up in my stomach. Mouse nosed me, making an inquisitive sound.

"Yeah. I guess I'm hungry too." I whispered the candles to life and looked at my Mickey Mouse clock. Five thirty. "Well, might as well get all the way up."

I puttered around in my kitchen for a few minutes, heating up one of the breakfast burritos I'd found in the ice box. They weren't store bought, and when I'd peeled it open it had been full of egg whites and meat and veggies. So the Toot-Hendricks connection was still working. Some of it went into Mister's bowl, and Mouse got a bite too, just for equality.

Then I headed down into the lab. Murphy had finally dropped off a copy of Mr. Wadsworth's schedule at my office the night before and I wanted to map it out on Little Chicago. I already had Josh's movements traced with a piece of blue yarn, and I was hopeful that there'd be an overlap of the two, giving me an area to concentrate on that was smaller than the entire damned city.

"Bob?" His skull rattled in a yawn, eyes popping to life.

"Hiya boss. Looking good there." I flipped my assistant off and tugged my flannel robe a little bit tighter. Bob had developed an unhealthy appreciation for my chest the past week or so. He insisted it was the best part of pregnancy - bigger breasts. Which really shouldn't have been a surprise, given his track record. But he usually knew enough to keep his mouth shut about me. Usually.

"Have you had any luck finding me my ghost? Any waves in the spirit world?"

"Not yet. None of the usual suspects have been active, it's past Halloween and I'm not hearing anything." Bob somehow managed to look sly. "Maybe if you let me ride around with you..."

"No. Never. No ridealongs, Bob. Not happening."

"You're no fun."

"I'm plenty of fun." I pulled the sheet off of Little Chicago, pulled out a skein of black yarn and got to work. It didn't take long, Mr. Wadsworth had not been a party animal.

"Hallelujah." I muttered it under my breath, smiling. There was a point of convergence. They'd both been down near the university the day before they came down with symptoms. Chance were good that's where they'd met their spook.

"Find something?"

"Yeah. Josh and Mr. Wadsworth were both down at the university." I tapped a nubby pencil against the pewter building. "There aren't any ghosts of significant strength over there, are there?"

"Not the last time I checked."

"And I didn't get anything when I went there right after Josh's attack." I shook my head. "I'll give Billy a call in a few hours, see if the Alpha's have noticed anything hinky."

~

I climbed out of the Beetle at Billy's apartment and heard my name being called. I glanced up to see Billy waving at me from their balcony. I waved back, my coat sliding open and watched his face freeze, go blank and then slide into open mouthed shock. He and Georgia had been on a really belated honeymoon and I hadn't had a chance to see them since they got back. I laughed as he nearly tripped over his own feet turning around to go back into the apartment.

He met me in the hall, right in front of the elevator. His eyes were still a little wide, but lit with what I recognized as good humor.

"Go ahead. Get it out."

"Did you see a bright white light? Hear voices telling you that future generations will call you blessed?" I shoved his shoulder, good naturedly. He didn't budge. Billy was a solid, muscular guy. "Alien abduction!"

"None of the above, and thanks for the vote of confidence in my dating skills." We got back into the elevator, headed down and for Billy's car to go check out the most likely spots.

"Dating? How do you even know that word?" He leaned over, putting his nose near my neck and inhaling.

"It's Mr. Mysterious, right?" I shot him a dirty look.

"Of course it is." You can't fool a werewolf's nose, even when they were in human form. Billy and the gang had known I was seeing someone since I took up with Marcone, I just hadn't told them who he was. And they'd respected my need to keep him private.

"Sooo...will we be getting to meet him? We need to vet him, you know. Make sure he's on the up and up. Give him the shovel talk."

"Oh, that's been handled. By someone much, much scarier than a pack of werewolves. And yeah. Eventually." I leaned against the back wall of the elevator, rocking back on my heels. "Not that I need to say it, but keep this in house?" He nodded. "It's John Marcone."

His smile would have terrified Little Red Riding Hood.

"What?"

"Georgia owes me fifty bucks."

"You guys had bets on who I was dating?"

"Of course. We have long running bets on a ton of things about you. There's the bet on when the Beetle will finally explode, the one over whether or not you're actually going to turn someone into a toad one day, oh! my favorite is the one where we've got odds on how you manage to set the entire city on fire." I held up my hands, laughing.

"Enough! Bunch of degenerates."

~

It was a long road near the dorms.

We walked along, slowly with Billy sniffing as surreptitiously as he could and I kept my senses out, searching. The area looked kind of familiar, but I couldn't quite place it yet. I kicked at a can, sending it skittering down an alley and as I watched it go, my memories clicked into place.

I grabbed Billy's shoulder and stopped him, hauling us back a few steps.

"What? What is it?"

"Shit. I recognize this place. I've been here before and I think I know who the ghost is. Fuck." I turned around and started walking the opposite direction. I could feel the dark energy again, just in my mind. There was no trace of it in the air around us now. It had been too many years ago for there to be a real taste of blood and death in my mouth.

"Harry, care to fill the rest of the class in?"

"Remember back a few years, when we had the zombie uprising on Halloween? All the dark wizards trying to make themselves gods?"

"The thing with the dinosaur. Yeah."

"Yeah. I killed one of them right over there." I nodded my head back toward the alley. "Called himself the Corpsetaker." If I thought about it, I could still see Anastasia Luccio's body collapsing, her head split open and the gun hot in my hand. "Damn. That's got to be it."

"Great. So let's go get rid of his ghost. That's easy enough, you said."

"Normally, sure. But the Corpsetaker was a necromancer. Very bad ass. I only killed him because I sucker punched him. I need a plan." And maybe some reinforcements.


	13. Chapter 13

"Hey, Harry?" Billy's voice drifted down into the lab.

"Yeah?" I packed the bag of ghost dust into my backpack, next to the chalk and the iron filings.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

"Heads up!" I tossed the bag up through the hole and Billy caught it. "Yeah. I've got all my gear now, so we go back, get the Corpsetaker's attention and exorcise his pasty ass. It's a good plan." I climbed up into my apartment and took the bag back.

"Um." He hesitated, clearly trying to think of how to say whatever it was he wanted to say. "But, and don't kill me, you're pregnant." I gave him the Spock eyebrow.

Then I made a big show of looking down at my stomach, head shooting back up to stare at him in my best simulated horror movie shock.

"Oh my god! When did that happen?!?" I covered my mouth with one hand, putting the other on the top of the shallow rise of my baby belly. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" A few fake sniffles, just for effect. Billy just rolled his eyes at me.

"Okay, okay. I know you know that you're pregnant, I'm just not sure you really know it. This is kind of dangerous, right? Cornering a spirit like this? Didn't you tell me some run of the mill backwoods hack of a sorcerer's ghost took a good chunk out of you once? How much worse is somebody whose name was 'Corpsetaker' in life going to be?"

"First, the Nightmare had extenuating circumstances involved. And I kicked his ass. Sec-"

"You kicked his ass, right. By dying. And he nearly killed Mrs. Carpenter and little Harry before you did."

"Second, he's dead. A ghost. They have rules, Billy. The things that made the Nightmare what it was aren't going on right now, so he's just an unusually uppity ghost. And third, that's why we're bringing Mouse." Mouse thumped his tail, once, grinning a lopsided doggy grin.

"Not for nothing, and I love Mouse, but he's a dog. What's he going to do?"

"Mouse is not just a dog. He's got magic powers, and one of those is that he can fight spirits." Billy gave Mouse a skeptical look.

"'Magic powers'?"

"Says the guy who learned how to turn into a wolf from a wolf that learned to turn into a human. To the wizard."

"Good point." He nodded. "So, what's my role in all this?"

"How do you feel about the title, 'Billy the Boy Bait'?" I knew just how wrong it sounded as soon as it left my lips. But it was too late to take it back, so I just dropped an arm over his shoulders and steered us toward the front door. Mouse followed, picking up his 'service dog' disguise and leash as he passed the end table by the door.

"Not good. Let's never use that particular sequence of words again."

~

It was dusk by the time we got back to the alley, and the street was clear. Which would have been freaky, except I guessed it was just human instincts kicking in. A lot of black magic had been slung around here, a lot of death. Even years later, that sort of thing leaves a stain, an uneasy feeling. Students who lived around here probably found other places to be, after dark, or they stayed in their rooms, and they had no idea why.

I was working under the theory that the simplest trap was the best. The circle I drew for Billy was large enough that he could pace a little in it, giving the impression that he was waiting for someone and not just standing there, looking suspicious. It would stay dormant until Billy activated it, which he was going to do just as soon as the Corpsetaker's ghost made his appearance. Then, Mouse and I would charge around the corner, deal with the creepy bastard and we could all go to Mac's for some burgers afterward. I was thinking maybe an avocado swiss number. It wasn't on the menu, but I knew Mac would make it for me if I asked nicely.

We were sitting there for maybe forty-five minutes, an hour tops. I was glad for the warmth from my coat and Mouse's big fuzzy butt beside me. Stake-outs, no matter who or what you're waiting for, can get boring. Dull enough for your mind to wander a little from the task at hand. So Mouse's low, sub-vocal growl cutting through my body was something of a shock. I jerked upright and stood, barely missing crunching down on the empty soda can the wind had blown beneath me in the meantime.

I felt the cold, slimy feeling of the Corpsetaker's ghost a few seconds later. Hells bells, I could practically taste the decay. Gross. Very, very gross. I pulled the ghost dust out of my pocket and got the bag ready for an easy reach and toss. Another second after that, I heard Billy make a startled sound and felt the power from my circle going up.

A wavering, angry hiss cut through the air and I ran around the corner. The Corpsetaker still looked like Luccio, a neat little hole right above one eye, still dripping blood. He didn't look at me, or Mouse, but focused completely on Billy, plastering himself against the wall of the circle, trying to force his way through. The circle spit out little waves of bright light, ripples against it's surface. I wasn't a part of his little ghost world, so I just didn't register. Which was cool, because it let me get right up close. Of course in order to banish the sucker I had to get him to notice me, which was less fun.

"Hey! What're you messing with him for? Don't you remember me?" His head turned, eyes glowing black and stared at me without recognition. "Sure you do!" He backed a step away from the circle, just a tad closer to me. I stuck my hand into the bag and got a fistful of ghost dust. Mouse had vanished somewhere into the blackness of the alley, waiting for his shot. "I'm the one who shot your nasty, second rate sorcerer ass. Right between the eyes. Like a rabid-"

His face twisted, Luccio's handsome features twisting into something grotesque, like a mask and the ghost lunged for me, faster than thought. I was already dodging, turning to one side and letting the spirit slide past me, like a charging bull. I dumped my handful of dust on him, and he screamed, nails on a chalkboard. The faint, faded gray form solidified, gained color and he got faster, turning on me so fast he almost blinked out of sight.

"I remember you, White Council bitch." I threw the rest of the ghost dust at him and he plowed right through the sparkling cloud, gaining solidity as he did, his lips peeled back from teeth that looked sharp and rotting, reddish stains coming into being on them. I danced back over the ground, reaching into my pocket for the charm that would dissipate the remnants of his energy and send him away for good.

My breath was coming harder than I'd expected, and I cursed as he got closer. My boot found some slick piece of trash and my leg twisted sideways. I caught myself, corrected, and got hold of the flat little piece of metal. Mouse's pounding steps came down the alley and I jerked my head up. The Corpsetaker was right there, blinking from one spot a few feet away to right in front of my face between breaths.

"Harry!" Billy shouted and I felt the 'pop' as he broke the circle. Cold, dead hands grabbed at me as I shoved the charm up, like driving my fist into a bowl of really thick pudding. The ghost screamed again, twisting away from me, throwing me off balance and I couldn't catch myself this time. I had that one, long moment to think 'shit' and then I was falling, the asphalt coming up all too fast. Mouse growled and I saw him hit the ghost, driving it down as it started to flake into wisps that dissipated like smoke. I brought my shield up, trying to make it soft and flexible. I'd done it once before, but I'd had a hell of a lot more time before impact, then.

I felt the shield hit the ground, a teeth rattling impact and my breath went out of me in a rush. My shield, too brittle because of the rush, shattered and I hit the ground, rolling so I took the softened impact on my hip and shoulder.

Billy was there a second later, pulling me up against his chest.

"Dammit!" I wheezed it out, still trying to get my breath. I pushed at his arm, and he ignored me, glancing over to where Mouse was still tearing the ectoplasmic bits of the Corpsetaker into ever smaller bits.

"Where'd you hit? Are you bleeding?" He was patting at me, trying to see or smell any wounds in the dark.

"I'm fine. Fucking trash on the damned street-" I coughed and a spike of pain went through the shoulder I'd landed on. "I cushioned the fall, Billy. I didn't get hurt." I pushed at him again, and he loosened his hold enough that I could lever off of him and start to rise, using his shoulder to brace myself against.

"I don't think you should-"

"Shut up Billy." I got my feet under me and started to take a step away from him. As I put my weight on my right leg, the one that had slipped on me earlier, pain twisted through my ankle, knocking me off balance again and I started to crumble. Billy caught me and eased me down to a sitting position against the wall. Mouse wandered over, reproach clear in his eyes. "Don't you start too." I wagged my finger at him and he sighed, draping himself over my legs but keeping clear of the throbbing ankle.

"Hospital or boyfriend?"

"Neither. Help me to the car and take me home." Billy crossed his arms, his glasses glinting in the light from the main street a few yards away.

"Nope. You fell. I don't smell any blood, but you fell and you hurt yourself. You can either go to the hospital, or I can call Mr. Marcone. Your choice." I glared at him, ready to argue and Mouse gave a pleading sigh. I looked at him and caved. My shoulder was being joined by my hip, and my neck in the chorus of dull, throbbing hurts. And my ankle was slowly heating up from dull to fiery pain.

"Fine. Marcone." I rattled off his cell number to Billy, who walked away a few steps and called him.

I slumped against the wall, visions of a small, well appointed cell somewhere deep in Marcone's house dancing through my mind. He was going to be so pissed.


	14. Chapter 14

Billy explained things in short, terse sentences, ignoring my commentary that he was exaggerating what had happened. He stood there, silent, for a minute or so after that, nodding his head. Then he turned and tried to hand me the phone.

"No! No!" I waved him off, whispering. I did not want to talk to Marcone. Not right away. He needed the drive out here to cool off before we spoke, or there would be a lot of shouting and I'd blow out the streetlights through the whole block, I was sure.

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Billy put the phone back to his ear and nodded some more. "I'll let her know." He hung up and slipped the phone into a pocket.

"Mr. Marcone says someone named George is going to be here in ten minutes. You're not supposed to move, or give him a hard time. He has his orders." Billy knelt down and reached for my wrist, trying to take my pulse.

"Hey!" I jerked my arm out of his grip. "I'm fine. I just twisted my ankle is all." Mouse made a 'harrumph' sound, which is impressive, coming from a dog and I was sure Billy was rolling his eyes at me.

"You can't put weight on that leg and I know you're hurting other places. I can smell it."

"Creeepyyy..." I laughed at him, trying to tease him out of his seriousness. He didn't laugh, and I settled back against the wall. At least it was George and one of the random minions. Most of the guys were split between fear and treating me like any other mob girlfriend.

George pulled up maybe five minutes later, and I was actually glad to see him. Now I could get the hell out of here, go home and put my leg up. He was smiling and shaking his head at me as he walked over, his coat half unbuttoned and flapping in the wind.

"Lady Kaboom." He made a mocking little bow and the crouched down on the opposite side from Billy.

"Hi Georgie. Can you please tell everyone to stop freaking the fuck out and let me go home?" He shook his head, giving Mouse a friendly scratch. Mouse finally rose and moved to sit a few feet away, watching the three of us.

"No can do. Orders." He turned his head to Billy. "Should we carry her, or can she walk between us?"

"Walk! Hello? Right here. I can walk."

"I think she'd hex us both into next week if we tried to carry her. It's her right ankle, but when she fell she landed on her left hip and shoulder, so we need to be careful of those too. I say we knock her out and carry her." I smacked Billy on the back of the head.

"Well, I think my boss'd take that one poorly. And when she woke up, she'd just hunt us down and hex us. So I vote we try and walk her. It'll be slow, but we'll get there."

"Fuck you. Fuck you both." Billy got under my injured arm and George took the other side, slowly raising me as I pushed with the one good leg.

"Nuh'uh. The boss'd take that poorly too. And I like all my parts right were they are."

~

"George?" I leaned forward against the seat belt, poking him in the shoulder. "This isn't the way home. Or even to Marcone's."

"No ma'am."

"Then, George, where are we going?" I wanted to lay down. I did not want to meet Marcone at one of his businesses and argue with him there. We could yell at each other just as well if I was in bed. Better even, sometimes.

"I can't tell you that, ma'am."

"You can't tell me where you're taking me?" I poked him again. "And stop calling me ma'am, you jerk."

"No. Orders." I could hear the silent 'ma'am' he bit off.

I ground my teeth together a few minutes later when we pulled into the Emergency Room entrance of the hospital. Marcone and Hendricks were waiting just inside the automatic doors and they came out as George pulled to a stop, the locks clicking open.

"Dammit!" I stabbed my finger down on the button to lock the door. "George...drive. Drive me home. I'll pay you!" He just shook his head and unlocked the door again as Hendricks reached it, pulling it open before I could lock it again. "You are so on my list, George."

"Better yours than the boss'." Cujo leaned into the car and reached for the buckle release. I slapped my hand over it and glared at him.

"Are you going to make me pry you out of the car and carry you in like a little kid, Dresden?"

"No. I'm going to knock you on your ass, kick Georgie out of the driver's seat and drive my achy ass home to bed."

"Uh-huh. And you're going to knock me on my ass with magic? Right next to the emergency room and all those life saving machines?" He somehow managed to quirk a single eyebrow up at me. It was very, very weird. Like seeing part of a mountain suddenly rise. "It's just a check up. The Boss called your doctor, and she was here delivering a baby. We're just going through Emergency because it's the shortest path."

"I'm not getting checked in. It's not safe for me, or the patients."

"You'll be here an hour at most." He made an 'x' across his heart. "Promise."

"Fine." I unbuckled myself and swung my legs out. Hendricks wrapped one big arm around me and lifted, taking most of my weight as I shuffled along. Marcone was waiting by the doors, his face unreadable. I met his eyes and then looked away. Pissed may have been an underestimation. "Hi, John."

"Harry." He turned away, heading into the hospital. Hendricks and I followed, slowly.

"He's..." Hendricks grunted and shook his head.

"Don't. He's mad and scared and that's not a good combination. Just shut up and let the doctor check you out."

"Okay." I slumped at little, tired. "Fine."

Ellie was waiting for us, little bits of hair sticking up in all directions. She looked tired, sweaty, but happy. I guess the delivery had gone well.

"Hello, Harry. I hear you had a little tumble?"

"Ah, yeah. I was out with a friend and I slipped. But I fell on my side and it wasn't very far, or hard." Hendricks helped me settle in one of the little plastic chairs.

"That happens, around this time. Your balance is shifting and your joints have started to get a little more elastic. You're probably okay, but let's have a look at you, just to be sure."

~

"Marcone?" I curled around the body pillow, resettling my right ankle on top of it. I was okay. Bad bruising on the left side, but nothing serious, though my ankle was badly sprained. But nothing broken, and the baby's heartbeat and everything else was still strong. Ellie had told me to just keep an eye on things, to watch for blood, but she was fairly certain that everything was just fine. On the positive side, Marcone had finally gotten to hear the baby's heartbeat.

We were back at Marcone's place and I was finally laying down in my nice, soft pajamas. Mouse was laid out behind me, comfortably warm. And John was changing into a big old sweater and tugging on some sneakers. He looked up at me, his face still way too calm. He hadn't yelled at all. He'd hardly said two words, as a matter of fact.

"I've just got something to take care of. I'll be back in an hour or so." He came over to the side of the bed and ran his hand over my hair, leaning down to give me a quick kiss. "Get some sleep. If you need anything, just yell. I have someone posted in the hall." And then he was gone. Mouse sighed behind me and I reached back and scratched at the base of his tail.

~

The bed shifting woke me up, a little. I muttered and started to roll over onto my back.

"Ah. Not the back, Harry, remember?" Marcone slid up snug behind me, rolling me back onto my side. I wriggled back into him, smiling at the soft kiss against the back of my neck and let myself slide back into sleep.

It was funny, the things our brains came up with when we were half asleep. I would have sworn I could hear a deep rumbling purr over the soft sounds of the house.

~

Mister's butt in my face was what woke me up. My over sized cat was purring like a freight train, his tail whacking me in the nose every other second. I shoved him over onto his side and he mrrowed at me, rolling off the bed gracefully and padding off. I yawned and pushed myself up. Now that I was sort of awake, I realized I needed to pee.

My feet hit the floor and I started to stand, the pain from my ankle hitting me a second later. I cursed and grabbed at the nightstand, lowering myself back to sit down on the bed. With that reminder, my other aches made themselves known.

Wait. Mister? I had fallen asleep at Marcone's.

I rubbed at my eyes and blinked, clearing the sleep out of them. Yep. Definitely Marcone's bedroom. And there was Mister, staring at me from on top of one of the bookshelves. Looking around, I could see a few other odds and ends that had most definitely been in my apartment the day before.

Son of a bitch.

"MARCONE!"

The door clicked open and an unfamiliar head poked in.

"Ma'am?" I pointed a finger at him and growled. He flinched, ducking back behind the door. Definitely a new guy. Probably why he got door duty this morning. Trial by fire and all that shit.

"Go tell Marcone to get his stalkery, kidnapping ass in here. Now." He went. I got up, held onto furniture and walls and hopped into the bathroom. By the time I came back out, Marcone was sitting in his chair, Mister dwarfing his lap.

"You are a goddamned son of a bitch. How dare you fucking break into my apartment and steal my stuff!"

"Harry. Please, sit down." I stayed standing, holding onto the back of my chair and wobbling a little. He sighed and shrugged. "I have both a key and the amulet you gave me to let me past your wards. I hardly broke in. And I only brought over a few things to make you more comfortable. We can go back and get anything else you might require today."

"We will do no such thing. I am going home, Marcone. Home. My apartment." His eyes and mouth tightened. The only signs that he felt anything at all.

"You will not. You cannot be left alone right now, Harry. You can barely cross the room."

"I've been hurt worse before, and done just fine on my own. You don't get to tell me what to do, remember?" His hand slapped down on the table, making Mister jump.

"Harry. You went out to fight a violent ghost, five months pregnant. With only Mouse and Mr. Borden as backup. You-" He took a deep breath, his hand clenching against the wood. "You were lucky that you didn't land harder, or on your stomach. It's not just you any longer, Harry. I've nearly resigned myself to watching you run off and try to get yourself killed in colorful ways. But I will not let you get our child killed, Harry."

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove himself, and stopped. I took a long, slow breath and counted to ten. Twice. Then I hobbled around the chair and sat down in it. That tiny flash of fear I'd had last night, when I'd realized I was falling and I couldn't stop was back, only now I had time to think about it. And it blossomed into a chasm that sucked the ground out from under me. Shit.

"Only until my ankle heals. Then I'm going back home."

"We'll see."


	15. Chapter 15

Week 20

I could get used to living with Marcone.

That was the last really cohesive thought I managed, as his fingers slid into me from behind, the warm mist of water coating us, making my hair stick in my eyes. I moaned, happy and leaned forward, resting my hands on the little bench seat set in the wall. 

My shower was barely big enough to turn around in. It was definitely not big enough for this. Marcone's shower was possibly orgy sized.

I moved back on his hand, sliding my feet just a little further apart, and gave him a look over my shoulder. He was smiling, of course, smug. I kind of liked the look of it on him. He removed his fingers with one last, gentle twist and got a good grip on my hips. Marcone thrust forward, slid home, and it was way too good. Better than it had been before, and dammit, that shouldn't be possible.

If I concentrated, which really was beyond me at the moment, I could probably have described every tiny bit of him, just from the feel of him moving in me. It was like he'd gotten larger, or- or something. I didn't know, and I really didn't care. 

I braced myself against his thrusts, slow and smooth and waited while it built, my spine traced with lightning, my muscles clenching around him of their own accord, trying to keep in in me, to keep that wonderful feeling of being full and stretched and happy. His rough, wet hands found my breasts, rolling my already hard nipples between his fingers and I found myself screaming, unexpectedly. My orgasm took me by surprise, took my legs out from under me and I heard Marcone made a surprised sound, his hands flying to catch me again, keep me from collapsing entirely. 

Riding that crushing wave, I forced my wobbly legs to hold me and started meeting his ragged thrusts, bearing down on him. Marcone started muttering in Italian again, which I loved. He only did it when he was trying to hold on and losing the fight. Tongue between my teeth, I clenched, slowly, and held him there. A second, smaller wave of pleasure crested and I knew he could feel the rippling around him. He hissed, a lovely sound and came inside of me, coating me. That was something else I was growing to love, the feel of him not only inside of me with nothing between us, but that first hot explosion.

We stood there for a minute, barely breathing and then Marcone started to pull out, slowly. I shivered and enjoyed the hell out of that feeling too.

"Can you stand?"

"Mmmaybe." I straightened, slowly and let him keep hold of me until I moved to sit on the bench. My ankle throbbed, now that I wasn't actively having a good time, but it was getting better. Marcone reached for the controls and turned the water pressure up a little, until it would actually do some good, bathing wise. "I see through you, you know. This whole...lap of luxury, hot and cold running sex. I'm not staying."

"Of course not." Smug, smug, smug.

"I'm not."

~

"Why don't we try the elevator this time?" I rolled my eyes at George and kept trudging up the stairs.

"Because, George. Because I don't want to get stuck in the elevator for a few hours when it inevitably breaks down." I kept my hand on the railing and forged ahead. "Suck it up. Climbing stairs is good for you."

We made it up to my floor, eventually. I'd paused and waited for George on every landing. Not that I'd ever tell him, but it was actually a good thing I'd had to take those little breaks. I was a little squiggly, still, on the whole balance issue, and I'd had a dizzy spell or three in the past week. Perfectly normal, according to Ellie. But I was supposed to be taking it easy and not tiring myself out. Which is harder than it sounds. You don't think something you've done every day for almost ten years is all of a sudden going to be tiring, but there you go.

I'd had a couple of jobs the past few weeks. Mostly lost items. No one had tried to kill me or seduce me to the dark side in almost a month. It was kind of nice. But there was still this lingering sense of something being out of whack. I knew exactly what it was, but I didn't have a clue what to do about it. I hadn't spoken to Murphy since the day after my banishing the Corpsetaker. I'd called her and let her know it was taken care of. She'd said 'thanks' and hung up. I hadn't tried calling her since then. I didn't want to be ignored, or have the phone slammed in my ear. This way, I could pretend we were both just really busy, and not letting our friendship finish dying on the ground between us.

"C'mon, slowpoke." I pushed the door open and stepped out into my hall. George caught it on the backswing and hiked the strap of my lunch bag a little higher on his shoulder. Club sandwich and lemon squares for dessert. Yum.

We rounded the last corner and I stopped, taking a step back before my brain caught up with what I was doing. Murphy was holding up the wall next to my office door, dressed in her work clothes. She'd seen me and straightened up, her face serious. I curbed my first instinct, which was to turn around and duck back into the stairwell. After all, she'd seen me. Running away would just be chickenshit at this point. And she'd just chase me down.

"Murphy." I walked up to her, George trailing a little ways behind.

"Who's your friend?" Her eyes were on George, cataloguing him. I knew he was doing the same thing to her, even while he looked friendly and harmless. George, much as I liked him, was not harmless. But he was good at pretending he was.

"This is George, my junior sherpa in training. I'm going to get one of those flappy little hats for him when he graduates to full sherpa."

"Ma'am." George gave Murphy his polite nod. "I'm making sure Ms. Dresden doesn't over do it. She's still recovering from that spill she took a couple weeks ago."

"Spill?" Murphy was back to staring at me. "You didn't tell me you'd gotten hurt." I shrugged.

"It wasn't any big deal. I slipped and twisted my ankle." I flapped a hand back in George's general direction. "Some people are over-reactive worry warts." I shifted my weight. "Did you need something?"

"We need to talk, Harry."

"Let's get inside then." The three of us squeezed into my office, with George ducking out into the hall just as soon as he made sure there was nothing waiting to eat my face. Murphy and I sat for a minute, just sort of looking around one another.

"So..."

"You look pregnant." I took the breath needed for the sarcastic remark, and let it out again. Murphy held up a hand. "I know you were before, but you've got the..." Her upheld hand waved vaguely in the air. "Belly."

"Yeah. That happens. Or so I've been told." I leaned forward, as much as I could. "Look, Murph, you've got to know I didn't do any of this to hurt you. I didn't do it on purpose, even. It just sort of happened and-" It was my turn to wave a hand through the air. "I'm sorry, Murphy. I really am."

"I know. It's okay." She shook her head. "That's not what I wanted to talk about anyway. We're not going to solve this." Murphy waved a hand between the two of us. "There's been another death." It took a second for what that meant to sink in.

"That's not possible."

"And yet." She shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "It all looks the same, Harry. Could there be another ghost?"

"It's not really likely. These things just don't usually happen, and for two ghosts to have developed the skill? So close to one another?" I shook my head. "No. I must have missed something."

"Okay. But you know who and where the ghost is, at least. So we'll just-"

"Not we. Sorry, Murph, but I can't." The idea was awful and dragged at me. I couldn't fight like this. I couldn't endanger my baby again, not like that. Which meant I couldn't do my job. It sucked. "I'm going to have to call in some outside help. It might take him a few days to get here, but Eb will know what to do, and he's more than capable of dealing with this thing."


	16. Chapter 16

Week 21

"Be nice."

"Excuse me?" Marcone set the book he was thumbing through down and glanced up at me. I set our plates down and Mac put the bottle of beer for Marcone and the lemonade for me down on our table before sauntering back behind the bar. I got myself into my chair and leaned over my plate, inhaling deeply. Loaded quesadilla. It wasn't on the menu, but Mac had started making me random things when I came in. And god, were they all so good. It was like he knew what I was craving even when I didn't know. 

"Don't pull that ice wouldn't melt in your mouth shit with me. You've had this gleam in your eyes ever since you found out that Eb is on the Senior Council. I know you're planning on 'talking' to him about me." Yes, I did the air quotes. From the energy Marcone was putting out he was planning it like one of his little talks where not everyone left the meeting on their own two feet.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm watching you. Just remember that. Eb is a good man. He saved my life back when I was a kid and kept me from being really messed up. So don't go antagonizing him!"

Marcone frowned and shook his head, chewing the bite of his steak sandwich.

"Harry. You saved your own life. If this Council was doing their jobs, you never would have been abu-" My glare made him cut off with a sigh. "You never would have been in the situation where you needed to defend yourself in the first place. Thus negating his 'rescue' of you."

"Eb took me in and he didn't have to. Be. Nice."

"I'll promise to be polite."

The door swung open and I looked up to watch Eb stump down the stairs into Mac's. He kicked the last bits of snow off of his work boots and took his hat off, folding it up and stuffing it into an inner pocket of his jacket. There was a lull in the conversations around us as the second man followed him down. Perfect. Just, perfect. I sat up straighter, and looked away from them, dipping the slice in my hand into the sour cream and then dropping a bunch of guacamole on it. I chewed, thinking. Why in the hell was Morgan here? Eb hadn't ever needed a bodyguard before.

"Hoss." I took a gulp of the lemonade to wash down the food and stood, wiping my hands on the cloth napkin.

"Sir." Eb was grinning, though I could see his eyes track to Marcone and back, until I stood up. The grin died on his face, though it lingered for a second or two.

"What in the hell have you done, Harriet?" Eb didn't sound angry, exactly, but there was something in his voice I didn't recognize. Shock, yes, but maybe disappointment, too? Morgan walked up behind Eb and looked over his head, puzzled until his eyes hit my stomach. His face shut down, but his eyes, when I looked at them quickly, were dark with amusement.

"Eb? Did you want to have a seat?" I looked around the room and found everyone who wasn't already on the way out the door to be staring at their food, apparently deeply fascinated by it. Voyeuristic vultures, the lot of them.

"No, dammit, I do not want to have a seat! I want to know just what in the hell happened?" He grabbed one of the empty chairs and dropped into it. Morgan stood until I sat, then he pulled out his own chair, next to Marcone. Marcone just sat back, his beer in hand, and watched. His eyes flicked back and forth from my face to Eb's though I knew he was taking in Morgan as well.

"A practical application of that birds and the bees talk you tried to give me when I was sixteen?" Eb leaned on the table, pointing a finger at me as he spoke, his voice tired and irritated.

"Don't get smart with me, Hoss. Not right now." Mac brought over two more beers and Eb grabbed the nearest one, drinking a good half of it down in one go. I could feel Mac's disapproval from across the room. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. I thought I heard him counting backwards in Gaelic. When he spoke, his Scottish was showing. A light hint of a different accent to his words. "You know what, Hoss, this isn't the right place for this conversation. Why don't we deal with business and then you and I can talk back at your place."

"With or without your babysitter?" Okay, so maybe his reaction had left me a little on edge.

"I'm here, Warden Dresden, because you asked a Senior Council member for assistance. Instead of going to one of your fellow wardens. Captain Luccio and I were curious as to why." I was curious as to how the hell they'd found out, but I wasn't going to ask that, of course.

"I'd have asked for Carlos' help, but he's all the way over in California and he's got his hands full. As for the rest of the wardens, the nearest one is usually you, Morgan. And I assumed you were busy stalking some other-" And that's when my brain caught up with my mouth. I let the sentence die, glancing at Marcone out of the corner of my eye. His face was calm, but I knew him. I'd told him that I'd had a probation officer, of sorts, who had made my life hell. But I'd been careful not to give him Morgan's name. I didn't want the warden to wind up at the bottom of Lake Michigan. Or, well. Fine, sometimes I did. But someone would just figure out a way to blame me, so it was best if Morgan stayed alive. So much for that plan. "I asked Eb as my mentor. Not as a member of the Senior Council."

"And that's why I'm here." Eb turned his angry stare on Morgan, who didn't look ashamed or anything, even after tacitly implying that I was trying to influence or harm the Senior Council through Eb. Secure in his righteous paranoia, that was Morgan. "But thing's are still dangerous, outside of Chicago, Harriet. None of the Senior Council's allowed to travel without at least one warden."

"Harry." Marcone shifted, drawing attention to himself. "If we could, perhaps, concentrate on the task at hand?"

"And just who in the hell are you anyway, boy?" I winced. This was going fabulously.

"Baron John Marcone." Eb, who had looked like he was calming down, flushed deep, scarlet red. Morgan put a hand on his arm, quickly and Eb shot him a glare that should have dropped the taller man dead where he sat.

"And what is your stake here, Baron?" Eb made Marcone's title a mocking thing. "Come to force Harriet into making you more powerful?"

"I'm the father of Harry's baby. Her lover. What's your interest in her?" Marcone had his subtly smug look, like he knew something no one else int he room did.

"Hey! Cut it out." I slapped my hand on the table hard enough to make the silverware jump and rattle the bottles and glasses. "Eb, can we talk about the ghost that's killing people, please? We can talk about my personal life later. In private. Okay?" I looked at Eb, who nodded and then over to Marcone. He smirked, but gave me a little nod. "Great." I leaned down and pulled out the case file, handing it to Ebenezer.

~

"What I don't get is why my charm didn't work the first time?" I was sitting on the floor in Marcone's library, on the rug in front of the fireplace. The fire was pleasant against my back as I bent over Eb's leg, wrapping a bandage over the cut I'd just finished cleaning.

"Not enough power." I shot him a questioning look. "Some of your magic is going into the baby right now. It's not a whole lot, but it'll throw you off unless you know to compensate for it." He shifted in the chair. "So you're living here, with him, now?"

"Not living living. Just staying here until my ankle heals. It's doing much better, but I still can't run or anything like that." I shrugged and tapped the bandaging off. "I'll go home just as soon as I'm up to it."

"No, you won't. Something'll come up, or he'll convince you to stay until the baby is born. And then he'll convince you to stay because the baby's so young. And on and on until you've been here for years and don't know how to leave any more." I scooted back until I could see his face without craning up and stared at him.

"I'm not planning on leaving Marcone, Eb."

"He's dangerous for you, Harriet." He rested his elbows on his knees, and in the flickering fire light, he looked old. "I want you to come back with me. To the farm."

"What in the hell for?"

"It's safe there, Harriet. And you can get away from this guy and think about what you're doing. About what you really want to do and what's best for your baby."

"Much as I love you Eb, and I do, this really isn't your problem. Marcone and I are both adults, and we like being with each other. We're figuring out the baby thing as we go, but I don't think we're doing too bad."

"That's what your mother thought, too. I watched her do the exact same thing. Run around with a dangerous man, because it thrilled her and get trapped."

"I'm not with Marcone for the thrill of it, Eb." He shook his head.

"That's what Maggie thought too. She thought she was using Raith, but she was the one getting used. Damn vamps! This guy isn't any different, Harriet." I used the other chair and stood, dusting myself off. I was so mad I could hear the blood rushing to my face.

"Marcone is not using me Eb. Don't you ever compare him to Lord Raith again." I started shoving all the medical supplies back into the tackle box. "You spent three years with me when I was a kid, and really stressed out. You did a lot of good for me Eb, but you never told me everything about yourself. And you don't know me now. Don't make judgments based on what my mom did." I slammed the lid closed and stormed out, past Morgan on one side of the doorway and one of the guys on the other.

~

"Harry?"

"This better be good." I dropped my book onto the little rolling cart beside the bathtub and looked up at Marcone. "I was just getting to the part about the big damn brains. Hilarious drunken conversation between an angel and a demon, Marcone. I need that right now."

"I just thought you'd like to know that your mentor," He put a strange emphasis on the word, "has decided that he's staying in Chicago for the time being." I stared at him. "In our house."

"Oh." I sat up in the tub. "That's going to be awkward."


	17. Chapter 17

Week 24

"There it is again!" I grabbed the nearest hand, which luckily just happened to be Marcone's, and shoved it under my shirt, against the side of my stomach. Eb, on the other side of me, scooted his chair closer. The weird little jumping motion came again, rhythmic. It went on for a minute, then stopped. "I think he's kicking!"

"I don't think that's a kick, Harry. It's not very...kick like."

"And how, exactly, would you know what a baby kicking feels like?" I let him go and he pulled his hand out of my shirt. Slowly. While staring at Eb. I kicked Marcone's shin, and he just grinned at me. Children. I was surrounded by children.

"Hiccups." I looked at Eb. He was smiling, reluctantly. "Babies get the hiccups sometimes. It's a good thing. Lot's of hiccuping means a healthy baby." He leaned back in his chair. "At least, that's what my mother always used to say."

"Back in the stone age?" Eb laughed at me, and I smiled. I thought he was starting to relax, a little. To get the fact that Marcone was not Raith and I was not my mother.

"What about your wife, Mr. McCoy? Did she ever have a baby who did that?" And then Marcone would open his damn mouth. Eb's mouth hardened into a thin line and I ground my teeth together. Did Marcone just not get that if we could convince Eb that all was well and that Marcone wasn't going to try and enslave me or anything then he would leave?

"Eb never-"

"Yes." I stared. My teacher picked up the morning paper and shook it out, lifting it in front of him to read. Irritation and desperate curiosity shot through me and I grabbed the paper, tugging at it. When he wouldn't let go, I pulled harder and tore the thing. He sighed and looked at me through the hole I'd made.

"You never told me you'd been married! And had kids!" A thought occurred, and I leaned forward as best I could. The belly was really starting to get in the way of things. "Is- is it Morgan?" His mouth dropped open and he went white. "I'd be embarrassed too, if you don't mind me saying it. But it's okay. I'm sure he was one of those kids who-" His laughter bellowed through the room, and I sat back, surprised. Eb very rarely laughed like that. I looked back at Marcone, who was shaking his head as he cut into his pancakes.

"Morgan-" Eb choked, doubled over with laughter, one hand clenched into a fist on his knee. I rolled my eyes and stabbed at the banana slices, dipping them into the whipped cream before eating a forkful. It wasn't that funny. My glass was empty, so I pushed off and wandered over to the side bar, pouring more lemonade. I took a deep gulp and then filled the glass again. When I finally made my way back over to the table, Eb was wiping his eyes, a chuckle still escaping now and again, but mostly under control.

"Well if it isn't Morgan, then who is it? Do I know them?"

"No, no. Harriet, I never actually married, though I did have a kid, once. But that was a long time ago, back in the War between the States. Dead now, and no, you never met them."

I frowned at him, but let it go. For the moment. Eb had had a kid. Maybe he had grand kids? Great-grand kids? A whole passel of little Eb's running around somewhere. I'd get it out of him, eventually.

Week 25

"And you are?" Ellie smiled at Eb, but then, Ellie pretty much smiled at everyone. It was kind of part of her job, really. Put everyone at ease.

"Ebenezer McCoy, ma'am."

"Are you family?"

"He's my-"

"Grandfather." I gave Marcone a look and Eb, standing next to Marcone, thumped his staff down, hard. It barely missed Marcone's foot, hitting where it had been just a second before. I mouthed 'cut it out' to both of them, though neither one even bothered to pretend to look sorry. It's sad when I'm the most mature person in the room. Then again, there was Ellie. So maybe it wasn't that bad just yet.

"Oh! It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCoy." Ellie shook his hand. "We're going to try and get a good look at the baby today. We've been trying for an ultrasound for the past month, but-" She shook her head. "Well, anyway. Fifth time's the charm, right?"

"Right!" I grinned down at her and thought positive thoughts.

~

"Finally. There you are." The image on the screen pulsed and moved, and at first I couldn't quite figure out what I was seeing. Then something that kind of looked like a little stick thing moved and I realized it was an arm.

"Stars and stones..." Ellie was talking, pointing out the head, and the feet. A little burst of static shot across the screen and Eb and I both froze. He backed away a step or two and I tried to be more calm. I didn't need Ellie's commentary though. Now that I'd seen the shape of that one tiny little arm, I could see it all. The little hand clenched, stubby fingers sort of waving and I wanted to reach through the screen and grab, to feel his hand against mine.

"And there's the umbilical cord...if you'll just shift a little bit, there, sweetie..." I tore my eyes away from the screen to see that Ellie wasn't talking to me, but to my stomach. To the baby. She pressed, gently, and the baby kicked at the pressure. It was odd to feel the movement inside and see it at the same time. But the baby shifted when he kicked, and Ellie made a pleased sound. "There. And..." She pressed a button and the image on the screen froze. "Congratulations. You're having a girl."

Week 26

"Okay, so, this is going to be the nursery, and our room is through here." I knocked on the wall, right in the center of the outlined door. The room had been a small office space, but all of that had been moved somewhere else and the minimal construction needed to get the room in baby order was well under way.

"Very nice." Georgia looked around the room, at all the plastic cover the carpet and the half painted walls and smiled. Billy was beginning to get a glazed eyed look to him. I pinched his arm as I walked by. "So which hospital are you planning to deliver at?"

"I'm having the baby here." The dull look left Billy's face and he straightened up.

"You're what?"

"Home birth. I've got a midwife and everything all lined up." Georgia and I exchanged a look at the horror on Billy's face. "I don't have a high risk pregnancy, and Holly comes highly recommended. She's a nurse, you realize." I grabbed his arm and started dragging him around the room. "I'm going to start layering in the wards as soon as they've finished putting the door in and doing the painting. This'll be like a little magical panic room by the time I'm finished, so I can have Maggie without being worried about anything. And Eb's agreed to stay at least through the birth, so I'll have him doing sentry duty."

"You need a guard while you're giving birth?"

"Yes. Well, I'll feel more comfortable anyway." I traced a sigil on the window, making it glow with just a little bit of power. I had plenty of enemies, and I was sure that news of my pregnancy had gotten around by now. They'd gotten my mother when she was vulnerable, but they weren't going to get me that way. Billy cleared his throat.

"So where're Mr. McCoy and Mr. Marcone anyway? I don't hear any arguing."

"I made Marcone take Eb down to the target range in the basement. It's soundproof." I snapped my fingers and the lit sigil burst into a bright blue flame. When it died out, the sigil was melted into the glass. Billy and Georgia were both staring at me. "What?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Them and guns?"

"Eh. They won't shoot each other." I shrugged dismissively. "They need to get over themselves. Besides, this gives me time to snoop through Eb's suitcase." I walked over to them and dropped an arm over their shoulders. The movement stretched sore muscles and the ache felt good. "Which brings me to the other reason I asked the two of you over."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I need a look out and an assistant." Billy sighed and Georgia laughed.

"Why don't you just ask him?"

"I did. He won't tell me. And it's pissing me off." A scraping sound came from the door to our right and I stopped, letting go of my assistants so I could open it. Mister came barreling out, careened off of Billy's shins and then went down the stairs. Mouse sauntered out after him, yawning.

"He's headed for the yard." Mouse whuffed and plodded downstairs after Mister.

"Is that safe? Having Mister loose in Marcone's yard?"

"Oh yeah. He scares away all the bobcats, and the guys know better than to shoot him. Hendricks had a bunch of posters made of Mister and passed them out to everybody. There's one up in the kitchen, I'll show you later. It's cute. It's like a 'Wanted' poster and he's got Mister classified as Smilodon fatalis." I grinned. "So. Who wants to snoop and who wants to watch the door?"


	18. Chapter 18

Week 28

"Looks good Boss. Anything nasty tries to shoot through these wards and they'll get their asses fried. Bzzzzzzzzzttttttttt!" Bob jumped around in my arms, his imitation of someone getting electrocuted.

"You want me to drop you? Cut it out." I moved over to one of the two pieces of furniture in the room, an old rocking chair that Eb had sent Morgan back to the farm for and sank into it. The damn thing was surprisingly comfortable. I kept Bob cradled in my arms and rocked, not really thinking, just looking around the room. The house was quiet, middle of the night, my god what are you doing up quiet. I sort of liked it. I was used to being on my own, and staying at Marcone's it was hard to find some solitude. There was always someone right there. Then again, I was also freaking tired and unable to sleep. So that was less than fun.

The nursery was kind of small, in relation to the rest of the house, which meant that it was twice the size of my room back in my apartment. We'd gone with a jungle theme, sort of. Pastel green walls and a border with cute little monkeys on it. Marcone had, to my great shock, wanted to do the room in pink. Like, pink pink. I'd stopped laughing, eventually.

"This is nice." Bob sighed and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Can you hold me a little tighter, Boss?" The skull wriggled and I gasped.

"Dammit!" I jerked Bob away from my body.

"Awwww....c'mon! They're so nice!" He jerked around in my hands, laughing. "I've stuck with you through so much! Through the itty bitty years! Cradle me against your bosom!" I did my best not to smile at him, but it was hard. He was like the worlds most perverted little kid.

"You're such a perv, Bob."

"You love me!" The door behind me creaked and I shot Bob a look. His eye lights went out and I turned my head to see Marcone coming through the door. His hair was sticking nearly straight up in the back and I bit down on the giggle. No one looks good with bed head, but Marcone made a good try at it.

"Who're you talking to?"

"No one." There was absolutely no where to hide Bob's skull, so I just tucked it up against my side. Marcone came up beside me and looked down, his hand resting on my shoulder. Then he took a second look, his mouth dropping open and then closing as he tried to figure out what to say.

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"Is that- are you holding a human skull? In our daughters' nursery?"

"Yes."

"I'm not certain I want to know, but I have to ask. Why are you carrying around a skull?"

"He's a good listener."

"And an invaluable resource, too." Bob jerked around in my arms, turning so that he could see Marcone.

"Bob! Shut it!" His eyes flickered, but he stopped talking.

"Bob?" Marcone reached out a hand to touch the top of Bob's skull, then stopped, his hand outstretched. He had this terrible thing about wanting to touch magical items. It was going to get him blown up one day, but would he listen to me? No.

Bob made muffled sounds, like talking through a gag. 

"The skull talks. And it has a name." I sighed and patted the top of Bob's skull, hard enough to rattle his teeth.

"Bob isn't the skull. That's just where Bob lives. Bob is my lab assistant." I held the skull up. "Bob, John. John, Bob."

"Hi! So, you're the mob guy, huh?" Bob looked Marcone up and down, then turned to me. "He's shorter than you. That doesn't work. But he does have the older, wiser vibe going for him. And he's survived knowing you for this long. Which doesn't usually happen."

"Hey!"

"Facts is facts, Boss." Bob turned back to Marcone. "I have to tell you, I'm kind of impressed you got in her pants. She's been really, really repressed. So that took some skill. Kudos."

"I am not repressed!" 

"Did you have sex with Susan? No. No, you didn't. Even after she pinned you against the fireplace and tried to swallow your tonsils. You gave her the 'friends' speech."

"How do you know that?!"

"I was in Mister. You forget me sometimes. Especially when you get distracted by the really hot woman unbuttoning your pants. You never have sex when you want to. You didn't take Kincaid-"

"Murphy liked him!"

"Not the point! He'd have done you and Murphy if you'd asked. Maybe even together..."

"Shut up. Shutupshutup!" I clamped my hand over Bob's mouth, my face burning red. "I'm going to throw you in a hole and fill it with concrete. They'll never find you. Never." Marcone was staring at Bob, a very thoughtful look on his face. "No."

"You don't even know what I was thinking."

"Yes, I do. And no. You are not allowed to quiz Bob about me. Or anything. At all. As a matter of fact, you're not allowed to talk to Bob ever." I looked down at Bob. "You're not allowed to tell Marcone about me. That's an order, Bob." The eye lights rolled in his sockets, but I knew he'd obey. He didn't really have a choice. I moved my hand off of his mouth.

"Yes ma'am." The skull got a sly look on his face. "But I can still talk to him, right?"

"I guess. Later. Go to sleep, Bob." The lights spiraled down out of existence and I groaned, resting my head in one hand.

"He's different."

"Bob's a spirit of intellect and air. Though you couldn't tell by his choice of topics. He knows more about magic than a dozen wizards. I keep his skull safe, and I pay him in books. His tastes are a little different, but I couldn't do without him."

"Is this common, to have an assistant like Bob?"

"Um. No. Which brings me to you. You can't tell anyone about Bob. Especially not another wizard. He was kind of supposed to be destroyed during World War II." I ran my hand over the familiar smooth shape of Bob's skull. "But Justin stole him and then I rescued him when the house burned down."

"You've had him since you were sixteen, then?"

"Yeah. He was Justin's lab assistant and he helped teach Elaine and I too, when Justin was too busy."

"A good friend?"

"For a skull." I shrugged, but I was smiling.

"And he does explain all the porn you buy." I blanched.

"You know about the porn?"


	19. Chapter 19

Week 31

"Now don't take this as a hint or anything, but I'm sick of this." I ambled out of the bathroom and headed across the room. "I mean, I want you to stay in there until you're done baking, you know. But I'm pretty much over this whole pregnant shtick."

Mouse looked back at me from beside the door to the hall and whined. Marcone was nowhere to be found, which meant I needed to get my ass in gear and get Mouse outside.

"Maybe we can rig up a pulley system or something. Tie a rope on the handles so you can open the doors that way." Not that he couldn't just stand up and lean on the handles, but then his weight was all against the door and he couldn't always get them open. Mouse thumped his tail once in what I was assuming was enthusiastic agreement for my plan and we headed on downstairs.

I let Mouse out one of the side doors and was about to close it behind him because it was fucking freezing out there when the sound of Eb and Marcone arguing drifted over to me. Not again. I'd thought they'd gotten over themselves. There hadn't been an argument for a couple of weeks. Not after the last one where I'd found them in the library, split lips all around and sullen glaring silence when I asked what the hell was going on. They'd promised not to fight anymore. Apparently they hadn't stopped arguing, they'd just moved the arguments to where I wasn't likely to find them.

"-adult and more than capable of making her own decisions. Don't you think you're doing her a great disservice by treating her like she's a kid who can't be trusted to know what's best for her?"

"Look here you upstart little shit, I know what I'm doing! This ain't none of your business and if you don't stop sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong I'm going to-"

"What? You'll do what? You can't come after me for the Council. I haven't violated any of the Accords, or any of the Laws. And you can't come after me personally, since that would drag our dispute into mediation under the Accords and bring it all out to the world. Which is something neither of us wants."

"You-" I could feel the crackle of Eb's anger, a low humming vibration. I shoved at the door and it slammed the rest of the way open, smacking against the house with the sharp snapping sound of stone breaking. Both their heads jerked up and around, Eb's hand going for his blasting rod and Marcone's for a knife. The gestures were nearly identical, and if I hadn't been so pissed I was shaking, I might have found it amusing. As it was, I stomped down the stairs into the back yard, snow piled up to mid calf soaking through my jeans in short order. I muttered a charm to warm myself and kicked at the snow on my way over to them.

"Harry, where's your coat?"

"Hoss, go on back inside. You'll catch your death out here."

They spoke at the same time, again, potentially amusing, only not so much at the moment. I slapped them both with just enough force to knock them flat on their asses in the snow. Marcone proved once again to be the smartest person in the room when he stayed down and shut up. Eb started cursing up a storm and struggled to his feet. I slapped him again, and he waved the power away. It took out a small, snow covered tree a few feet to our right. While he was doing that, I marched up to him and shoved him. He staggered and made another huge dent in the snow.

Mouse trotted over to my side and stood, watching Eb and waiting.

"Stay the fuck down!" Eb stopped in a half-kneeling position and looked up at me, his eyes dark and thunderous.

"Harriet, I don't know what the hell has gotten into you, but you cut that out. This is no way for a grown wizard to be acting." I snorted. He rose to his full height, a lot of dignity lost as clumps of snow plopped off of him.

"I tried being an adult. I asked you two really, really nicely to stop being assholes. I looked the other way when you hit each other in the library." I started pacing. The warming charm wasn't meant for long term use so it was starting to fail. "I don't know what the problem is, and I don't actually give a shit. Eb, if you're still thinking that Marcone is secretly plotting world domination, well, actually, you're probably right. But he's not doing it behind my back, and I'm not such a fucking moron that I'd just do whatever he asked. You can ask him, I spent six years telling him where he could shove it.

"John." Marcone stood slowly, dusting himself off. "Whatever it is you're needling Eb with, stop it. Or I will go and torch your boat."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I just think-"

"I don't care!" I stomped my foot and there was a little puff of steam as I pushed heat out around me, melting the snow. It hardened again almost instantly, leaving a slick layer of ice. "Eb." I turned my head back to him. "Whatever it is, is it something I need to know? Is it something that could put us in danger? Because if so, then I want you to tell me. Otherwise, keep your damn secret. I don't care anymore." I turned and started walking back toward the house. "And if I catch one little hint that you two are still fucking around with each other I will drop you both on your heads in the Nevernever."

I could hear them talking to one another as I walked away, Mouses' footsteps oddly quiet even in the snow. By the time I reached the porch and was kicking the snow off of my shoes, the anger had started to fade and I found myself sniffling. Again. Dammit.

"Hoss! Hoss, will you just wait a second?"

"No!" And I slammed the door behind me. Eb came through it a minute later and jogged down the hall to catch up to me.

"God dammit, Harriet, will you stop?!"

"Stop calling me Harriet!" It came out way too loud and way too high pitched, and doors opened all over the house. One guy was just a few doors away and he stuck his head out, saw me and Eb and dropped back out of sight, already speaking on his little radio.

"Okay. Okay. Can we talk, Harry?" He held his hands up in an 'I surrender' pose. "In private?" Mouse looked at me and I jerked my head up. He gave Eb a look and then padded up the stairs.

"Fine."

We went into a spare bedroom and I flicked on the lights as Eb shut the door. The lights flickered and fought to come on, but they did eventually light up the room, if only half-heartedly. I leaned against a wall and Eb took a seat. He waited for me to follow, but I shook my head.

"I want to be able to storm out, and getting out of a chair is starting to get a little undignified. What'd you want to talk about?"

"You remember back when we took care of that scourge of Black Court? After, when you asked me about being the Blackstaff and I told you that it was a conversation that would change the way you looked at me?"

"Yeah. Finding out my mentor, the man who taught me to revere life, is the Council's assassin isn't something I'm likely to forget Eb."

"This is another of those conversations, Hoss. And I really think you'll want to be sitting for it. Please." I thought about it for a minute, then nodded and took the other seat. I could always blow out all the lights if the scene called for drama. "Thank you."

We sat in silence for another few minutes, until Eb took a deep breath and met my eyes.

"I've made a lot of enemies in my day, Hoss. Even apart from my positions with the Council, I was something of a hot head in my youth. There are people and things out there that would love to have a way to hurt me.

"I've kept a lot of things from you, but it's been for good reasons. I didn't want you to know I was the Blackstaff because, hell, it's not something I'm proud of. And you were hurt, when they gave you to me. You were scared and alone and bleeding from wounds nobody could touch. So I gave you what I though you needed, which was space, patience and love." He leaned into the back of the chair. "Maybe I didn't do it right. Maybe I should have...have done some things different. All I can do is apologise for anything I did that hurt you more. But I did what I thought was best."

"You did great, Eb. Don't-" He shook his head.

"Don't say that until you've heard it all. I taught your mother, you know that. I told you I was hard on her, too hard. That that's what led her to rebel, to run away and to get involved with those people. With Raith. What I didn't tell you, before, was that I was hard on her because I expected more out of her than I would anyone else. I wanted her to live up to her potential, come hell or high water." I wanted to interrupt. I knew all of this. But there was something about the set of Ebenezer's shoulder's that made me hesitate. It hurt, getting this out. More than confessing to being an assassin had. More than the possibility of losing my respect had. "She was so much like her mother. That should have told me something. Her mother never put up with my attitude either. It's part of what I loved about her, my Gwen."

Something knotted in my throat, my chest and I couldn't speak. It felt nearly impossible to even breathe. He wasn't saying what I thought he was. He couldn't be. Eb could see it in my face and he gave me a sad smile.

"Your mother's name, when she was born, was Margaret Gwendolyn Langtry. Gwen and I never married, so she didn't give Maggie my name. But we named her after my mother, Margaret McCoy. We kept it a secret, of course. Arthur and I never got along, and he forbid Gwen to see me. Back then he could do that, of course. But Gwen didn't listen very well to him either." A small twist of happiness entered his smile. "Gwen died when Maggie was six. An accident. I took Maggie in and raised her. Taught her and lost her."

"No. Eb, stop. You're not-"

"I'm going to finish what I started, Harry. You don't have to like what I say, but you're gonna listen. I didn't know where Maggie was for a long, long time. She got herself in trouble, blacklisted with the Council. None of them knew she was my daughter. They gave me orders to deal with her, as the Blackstaff, and still I kept my tongue about it. Then she showed up one day. Had some fool plan she wanted me to help her with. I never got the details, but it was her and Lord Raith. Others whose names I never got. I turned her down, tried to get her to come with me. But she wouldn't, convinced that their plan was going to save the world.

"And I didn't hear anything about her for maybe another ten years. Not until after she'd already met your father and died." His hands clenched into fists on his knees. "I didn't know about you. Not at first. All I got was a report that she'd died in a freak accident on the operating table. No one knew anything about a baby, and your father wasn't clued in, so we left him alone.

"I ran into him once, your father, when you were maybe five. He didn't know who I was, of course, and I didn't let on. We talked about his show, he'd been doing a charity thing for some kids and I helped him carry his stuff back to that beat up old car. And there you were, in the back seat, asleep. I asked and he told me all about his beautiful wife and how she'd died giving birth to his perfect little girl." I didn't want to hear any more, but I couldn't move. I felt hot and cold, all at the same time, my fingers digging into the cloth of the chair arms. "I left you there, with your daddy. And you both vanished. Next thing I know, it was a year later and you were an orphan. I wanted to take you in, Harry. But-" He closed his eyes. "I'd screwed up with your mother so badly, and you were so young. I thought you were safer where you were.

"Then DuMorne adopted you and I thought everything would be fine."

"You- you knew Justin had me? Had us?" Rage and pain whirled around inside of me. He'd known who I was. Where I was. And he'd left me there. With Justin. With the pain and the fear, never knowing what Justin wanted when he opened my door. Never knowing if he was going to drag me out of bed and hurt me, 'train' me, or if he would shut the door and- I shoved the thought away and focused on the other side of the pain, an orphans pain. I'd had family and he hadn't wanted me.

"We all thought DuMorne was a good wizard, Harry. We didn't know. I thought you were safe. Safer with him than with me. I was wrong, God help me. I thought I was keeping you safe. Until you killed him, until you were brought before the Council and it all came out, we didn't know. We were a bunch of blind, stupid old men, Harry. Me more than any of the others and we didn't see." He rose, slow and creaking, an old man and he came to stand in front of me.

"I took you in. I made the Council let me have you, Harry. And I did my best to help you. Part of that was keeping all of this from you. The Blackstaff and who I really was to you. Because I love you and because you were still so young and so vulnerable. You're my granddaughter, and I failed you your whole life. I'm trying not to now, but I don't think I'm making a good job of that either." He took my hand and his skin felt nearly feverish against mine. "I don't know that you're ever going to understand, Harry, or forgive me. All I'm asking is that you try. Give me a chance. Please. We're family. Piss poor as it may be, we're family."

The pain was still there, a hard spike in my heart. Family. Yeah. A great, fucked up family. Great-grandpa Eb, the assassin, Uncle Thomas the recovering sex vampire, Daddy John the Mafia Overlord and Mommy, pyromaniac combat wizard. We were great. Little Maggie was doomed. Maybe I could get Michael and Charity to adopt her? They were the sanest people I knew.

"Harry? Hoss?" I looked into Eb's face and tried to think, to be rational. Hadn't I thought about all my enemies, about what they could do to my child to get to me? Wasn't that exactly what Eb had faced? Justin had been slick, and a great liar. A great actor. He'd played the good warden for centuries with no one the wiser. Was it really Eb's fault that he'd fallen for it? No. But that didn't make it hurt any less. "Harry?" I turned my hand in his, gripping the wrinkled flesh like a lifeline.

"I don't know what to say, Eb. I just don't. You're- I- I get it. A little. But I don't-" I shrugged and shook my head at the same time. "I don't know what to think. I need to- I need a little time to think, Eb. I'm sorry." He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"Take all the time you need, Hoss. I'll wait."


	20. Chapter 20

I couldn't stay, after Eb left the room. I wanted to sit there and think, but the room felt both too small and too large. Empty and echoing and not cozy enough even as the walls closed in around me.

At eight months pregnant you don't jump up for anything, but I got up as quickly as I could manage and slipped out of the room. The house was silent. Not normal silent, but 'oh shit duck and cover' silent. I crept up to the bedroom and didn't run into anyone on the way, which suited me just fine. I grabbed the backpack containing Bob, tossed a few things into it and pulled my coat on. A low buzzing sound reached my ears a few seconds before Toot zipped in front of me, landing on the top of the backpack, hands on his hips and glaring.

"My Lady, what do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing. Just- going out."

"You should stay here. Your lord consort will be up here soon and he can-"

"He can bite my ass is what he can do, Toot."

"Sure! If you stay here, I'm sure he'll do that for you. Mortal sporting is always fun to watch. But you have to stay here for him to do that."

"That wasn't-" I shook my head. Arguing with Toot was sometimes like arguing with dandelion fluff. It fluttered all over the place and didn't care what you said. "I'm going to go visit Thomas. That's all. I just want to get out of here for a little bit."

His tiny face creased into a frown.

"Maybe Mr. Thomas could come get you?"

"I can drive my own damn self." And I swatted at him. Toot dodged, of course, but it let me get my hand on the backpack. I dragged it up and threw it over one shoulder. A human skull is surprisingly light. The door clicked open and then shut again, and I heard the lock engage. I flexed the fingers of my right hand and turned to face Marcone. Toot was hovering beside him, speaking quietly. As soon as they saw me looking, Toot buzzed off, vanishing into an air duct. "Get out of my way, John."

"If you want to go to see Thomas, I'll have someone drive you. But I'd rather you stayed here, Harry."

"And I'd rather you weren't a lying asshole at the moment. But we don't get our druthers, do we?"

"I didn't lie." I gave him my best glare and let the backpack drop onto a chair. "Yes, I figured out that McCoy was related to you. I thought that was the sort of information that should come from him."

Marcone moved forward, hands coming to rest on my hips, holding onto me. I shook and it wasn't from cold. 

"I don't know what to do." I hated admitting it, and it came out small. "I don't know-" Anything, anymore. Had Eb taken me in out of guilt? I'd thought he'd done it because he saw me, saw the real me and not the monster the Council wanted me to be. But- Maybe he just did it because he didn't have any more choices. He could have told me. I wouldn't have- I would have understood why I had to keep it quiet. I would have.

Marcone eased around me, pulled my coat from my shoulders and tossed it over the chair. His arm around my waist was solid, maybe the only real thing in the world and I leaned into him, let him lead me over to the bed. I sat and he pulled my shoes off.

"Get some rest." It sounded like a marvelous idea, really. I was tired. Not physically, but inside. It dragged at me, made everything harder to think about. Part of me wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, and I didn't understand why. I'd been alone my entire life, until I'd met Thomas. I'd never had any delusions that anyone had wanted me for myself. Even Marcone had just wanted my power, at first, until it had grown into this, into what we had. But Eb. I'd thought Eb had just liked me. That he'd seen a good person. Only that hadn't been it at all. He'd seen a burden that he couldn't put off on others any more. Old guilt come home to roost, finally.

I lay back and let Marcone help me wriggle out of my jeans, leaving me just in my shirt and underwear. I heard the heavy, still wet fabric drop down the laundry chute as I turned onto my side, clutching one of the big pillows to my chest.

"He could have just let them kill you." The faint sounds of movement from Marcone had stopped and I closed my eyes against the burning, prickling feeling building up in them. "If all he had wanted was to hide from your existence. If all he'd thought of you was a burden. He could have let them kill you and no one would have known anything different. He didn't. I don't agree with his choices, but I understand them. McCoy was afraid, and he let that fear rule him." Marcone leaned over and kissed me, nearly in the same spot Eb had. "Don't think about it now. There's nothing that needs to be done."

Week 32

"Harry."

"Eb." I climbed into the back seat of the sedan and let George shut the door behind me. Eb was sitting as far to the other side of the seat as it was possible to get, and he looked rough. Tired. Like he hadn't been sleeping well. "Marcone's supposed to be going to the class with me."

"The boy said he had something come up. Asked me if I could go, since you've been snappish lately. Said you needed someone to run interference."

I sighed and sank back into the seat. George pulled out of the drive and onto the streets, headed into the city. He was a good guy, and I knew he'd report everything to Marcone. It didn't bother me as much as it would have a few years ago. It was the ones who didn't report in what they heard that you had to worry about.

"Why'd you do it?" Eb's eyes cut to mine, then away again. "Speak up for me. Take me in. You didn't have to. You could have let them kill me, and all your problems would have gone away." A choked, sickened sound came from him.

"How can you- I could never have let them kill you Hoss. What kind of a man do you think I am?"

"I don't know. How can I know? I thought I knew you. I thought you were this, this perfect, great, kind man and then you turn out to be a killer!"

"I never said I was perfect, Hoss. I never even pretended."

"I know that. I know it was my own fault and I put you on a pedestal. I adjusted. But then- Hells bells, Eb! You're my grandfather!"

"And I wanted to tell you!" The radio, which had been playing softly, started to die in bursts of static. "You want to know why I fought for you? For the same reason I let you go when you were a kid. Because I love you. I loved your grandmother and I loved your mother, even when she was breaking my heart. I did the best I could and I'll say it again, I was wrong. I should have taken you in when your father died. I should have told you the truth years ago." There was a little sputter of sparks and George cursed softly under his breath, glancing back at us in the mirror. I gave him an apologetic little wave. "I took you in because you're my family, Harry. Because family should take care of family, and I didn't do that for you when I should have. I took you in to give you the chance to grow up into the woman I saw in you."

My stomach clenched, the weird twisting sensation of little Maggie moving around. I knew if I lifted my shirt I could see the outline of a foot or an elbow slowly making its way around the inside of my skin. It had been completely freaky the first time it had happened, but now I was thrilled with it. I pressed my hand against the movement and she pushed back. When I looked up, Eb was staring at me, the interior of the car silent.

"You should have told me. Maybe not when I was a kid, but later."

"You're right. By the time I thought you'd understand why I did it, I'd been keeping it from you for years. I didn't want to ruin what we had."

"Stuff like that never stays hidden, Eb. It always comes out one way or the other."

"Don't I know it. It bit me in the ass, and I deserve it. Hoss, if I had to do it all again, I'd do a lot of things different."

"We don't get do-overs." I sighed. "You should know, Marcone's been arguing your case all week. Trying to get me to see the logic. I don't do so hot with the cold logical stuff, but he does. I get it, in my head. The rest of me is going to take some time to convince. It hurts in ways I can't explain."

"Is there anything I can do?" I shook my head.

"No more secrets. I really can't take another stunning revelation from you." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "You don't have any other secrets like that, do you?"

"No, Hoss. You've got 'em all, now." 

"Okay." I made myself reach across the space and touch the back of his hand. Some of the tension left him, and I left my hand there for the rest of the drive. Familial dementia. It was more than just a theory, now. I had hard evidence that it was a fact.

We eventually pulled into an underground parking lot. George found a spot relatively quickly and we all piled out. "Hoss?"

"What?"

"What kind of a class is this, anyway?" We crossed the space quickly, George going a few steps ahead of us.

"It's all about the joys of breastfeeding."

Week 34

The phone ringing disturbed me and I felt the mattress shift as Marcone rolled over and grabbed it. We'd replaced all the cordless jobs with old-fashioned rotary phones just to keep the damn things working. I blinked at the clock. It was only about three in the afternoon and I sighed. Yes, I was taking a nap in the middle of the day. My sleep cycle was all messed up and I took the sleep where and when I could get it.

"She's resting." There was a pause. "Yes, I do appreciate that fact." A low laugh. "That threat would have been more effective last week." I rolled over onto my other side so that I could see Marcone. I lifted my hand and made a 'gimmie' gesture at the phone. "Ah. It appears she's awake now. One moment." He put his hand over the receiver. "It's Ms. Murphy. She would like to speak with you."

"Hand it over." He set the phone on the bed so the cord would reach, handed me the receiver and left the room. I waited until the bathroom door had shut before I put the phone to my ear. Yes, he could still hear me but I at least had the illusion of privacy. "Hello?"

"Did I wake you up? I didn't mean to."

"'S fine. I sleep off and on all the time lately. Is something wrong?" We hadn't spoken in months. Not since I'd called her to let her know that the ghost thing was really, finally taken care of. She'd sounded distracted and the phone call hadn't lasted long. I'd decided to give her the space she clearly wanted and honestly I was surprised to hear from her at all.

"No. Nothing's wrong. I just think- can I come over to talk?" I blinked and rubbed at my eyes, surprised.

"You do know I'm living in Marcone's house, right?"

"Of course I do. Look, this isn't a phone conversation. When would it be okay for me to come over?" Her tone was brisk, but I couldn't hear that undercurrent of hurt and anger that had been there the last few times. I thought, for a second, still sleepy and slow in the process.

"Ummm...tomorrow? You could come for lunch?"

"Great. I'll be there at noon."

"Okay. Okay, good. I'll, um, I'll see you then. Bye."

"Bye." We hung up. I looked at the phone, then up at Marcone as he came back into the bedroom. 

"Murphy's coming for lunch tomorrow."


	21. Chapter 21

"Stop it." I looked up at the clock, then fiddled with the napkins on the table some more.

"You don't think these are a little too...pretty? Do we have uglier napkins?" Gard looked at me and shook her head.

"I could throw them into the muddy snow, if you like. Then they'd be dirty."

"No! I just mean...they're kind of nice. Like, too nice. Sort of, rub it in your face we have money, nice. Which isn't true. I'm still shit poor. I should have brought my own napkins."

"Your napkins are made of paper."

"They go with the paper plates and plastic silverware." I looked up at the clock on the mantel again. It had stopped. "What time is it?"

"Noon." Gard didn't even glance down at the fancy watch on her wrist. The technological perks that came from working for Monoc nearly made me drool sometimes.

"Shit." I waddled for the door. Maybe it didn't look like a waddle, everyone kept insisting that it didn't, but it sure as hell felt like one. I hadn't felt this huge yesterday. Gard beat me to it and stood in front of it, blocking me.

"Go sit down. I'll bring her up when she gets here."

"No, I don't want that. I feel like a tool, having people shown up to me. Especially Murphy. I don't want her to get the idea that I'm..." I searched for the word and couldn't find it. "It feels stupid and pretentious."

"What it is is practical. Moving you around the house takes a lot of time and effort. I have to clear the halls of any and all tiny, breakable knicknacks and a signal needs to be sent out warning all employees to clear the space." Her eyes glittered with amusement as I flipped her off. "I promise not to change into a French maid costume between here and the front door. Now will you please get off of your feet and try and relax?"

"Are you going to let me out of the room?"

"Of course. But by the time you get down there, Ms. Murphy will already have made it up the stairs and starved to death waiting for you."

"I'm not that slow!" Her look said she didn't believe a word of it. "I have really long legs, so they help keep me from being turtle paced."

"You used to take the stairs two at a time."

"Whatever." There were one hell of a lot of stairs in this place. A sharpish pain smacked into a kidney and I hissed. "She's practicing kicking people in the head again." I made my slow way back over to the chair with all the extra pillows and sat down. It was a process that felt like it should have those beeping sensors big trucks have when the back up. Just to warn any tiny people who might have been under my ass. Because once I committed to the sit, there was no reversing it.

Gard waited until I was firmly in the chair and then left. It wasn't more than five minutes before she returned, still dressed in her professional suit with Murphy in tow. Murphy, in spite of it being the middle of a work day, was dressed down in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. She looked good. Not happy, but satisfied.

"I'll have lunch up in just a minute." Gard ducked back out of the room and left me alone with Murphy. I struggled to get up. Stupid. I shouldn't have sat down in the first place. Murphy made an odd squeaking noise and rushed across the space between us.

"Don't get up." She leaned down and hugged me. My hands came up instinctively, patting at her back. My brain, on the other hand, was stuck on 'what?'. Murphy finally released me and stood back. "You're kind of huge."

"Gee, thanks Murph. I hadn't noticed." Her pale skin showed the faint blush really well.

"I just meant- you know, you're an ass."

"Huh? You called me huge and I'm an ass?" 

The door opened and, I kid you not, Fredo walked through the door, wheeling the little cart with all the food on it. I'd finally found a mob guy with a mob guy name. It had thrilled me to no end. No one else thought it was as funny as I did, but then they were all humor deficient in the first place. Once the food was on the table, soup and sandwiches, and Fredo was out the door, Murph took her seat.

I did not just start shoveling food into my mouth, even though it all smelled really good.

"Let's get back to the me being an ass thing, please. I haven't spoken to you in months and that's almost the first thing you say to me? How about, hi, you look great or something?"

"Hi Harry. You look great. Really. You've got that pregnant glow and everything. Also, you're no longer as thin as a toothpick, and it looks good on you. You're still an ass." She took a spoonful of soup. "You should have told me."

"I already said I was sorry!"

"And well you should be. You've got this crazy thing where you always think that you know better than everyone else and that you need to keep things from people. From me."

"It's for your own-" I let the sentence die. Oh, irony. Well, at least now I knew I came by the attitude honestly. "You're right. I should have told you. Would you like me to apologize again?"

"No, of course not. I just wanted to state the obvious one more time." She took a bite of her sandwich and made an appreciative sound. "I resigned."

"You-" My brain froze. Murphy'd lost her job. It was my fault. Her job was her life. Why the hell was she sitting there, calmly eating? She should be yelling and screaming at me. "I-"

"You know, it's not all about you, Harry."

"What, you just happened to decide to quit your job right after finding out about me and Marcone?"

"Harry. I quit my job because it was the only deal I could make. I had to tell my superiors about you and Marcone. I told you before, if I didn't tell them they'd blame me, and if I told them they'd blame me. It doesn't matter that probably more than half of them are getting paid by Marcone. They've wanted me gone for years and this is just the excuse they needed.

"But if they tried to just fire me, I'd raise a stink. I can't prove beyond a doubt which ones of them are crooked, but I could make their lives rough. So we cut a deal. I resigned, no questions asked, and they left me alone. And they'll leave you alone. In return, I didn't start poking at them with sharp sticks on my way out the door."

"God, Murph. I'm sorry." I thought of Marcone, off in his home office, and I kind of wanted to slap him on Murphy's behalf.

"I'm done with it, Harry. The corruption, the looks when no one thought I was paying attention. I loved my job, but the people who should have been helping me were stabbing me in the back. It still sucks, and I did a whole lot of cursing your name and your choices in men. But you know what? They were always going to take me down. Always. And I've known for years that it was going to be you they used to do it. I just didn't expect it to be because you decided to fuck the crime boss of the city."

"Hey! It's a lot more than just fucking!"

"I know. Believe me, I know. I'm familiar with love, Harry. Or at least I was a long time ago. Much as I hate it, you really do love the asshole." She shook her head, blond curls bouncing. "It was inevitable, really. The rest of your life is like a disaster movie, why not your love life too?"

"Okay. Now I think I'm insulted." She laughed, and I gave her a half-hearted chuckle. But this felt good. Not the awkward half conversations we'd been having before, with Murphy radiating hurt and me trying to figure out how to make it better. She really did seem to be...okay-ish. Maybe she was ranting and raving on the inside, but I couldn't see it. And Murphy wasn't that good at keeping her anger hidden on the inside.

Maybe having a second brain inside of me was making me smarter, because I decided that I wasn't going to poke it. If Murphy thought she wasn't mad at me anymore, then I'd take it. I'd missed her.

"So, what're you going to do now?"

"Same thing I've been doing. Help people, kick monster ass." I gave her a blank look. I didn't get it. "I'm going to be a P.I., Harry. I've still got all my old connections in SI so I can work with them, help them out when they need it."

"Hey! That's my gig!"

"No, you're a wizard. Really. I looked you up in the phone book. It doesn't say private investigator. It says wizard." She smirked and tucked into her soup.

"You can't be a P.I. You don't have a license." Murphy rolled her eyes at me over a mouthful of soup. She swallowed and pointed her spoon at me.

"I am aware. However, they have these classes that you take, and I think I can manage to pass those. Then, there's the apprenticeship. Luckily, I know a wizard who happens to have a private investigator's license who can be my mentor." I gulped down my own mouthful of soup. "Someone who will appreciate and be grateful for my expert help. Especially since she's going to be busy with a small child for the next several years." Her face softened. "Kids change everything, Harry." I shook my head at her. Like I hadn't figured that one out. A thought popped into my head, and it was brilliant.

"I'm not about to get you all trained up and then have you open up a rival business." I dipped part of the bread from my sandwich into my bowl, mopping up the last of the soup. "If I was going to take you on as an apprentice. A major task, I assure you. If I was to do this, I'd have to benefit from it in some way." I chewed my soggy, flavor soaked bread for a second. "As you so rightly pointed out, kids change things. And I'm not going the nanny route any more than I have to. I don't like the idea of someone else raising my daughter, but I can hardly send her to work with her dad every day. So, in light of all that, I could only agree to take you on as an apprentice if you were going to stay on." I paused for dramatic effect. "As a partner."

"No shit, Sherlock." Murphy flicked an invisible bit of dirt off her sleeve. "Murphy & Dresden Investigations."

"Hey, it's my business! Dresden & Murphy Investigations. That's in alphabetical order, too." I crossed my arms over my chest, sort of. It was really hard to do that, lately.

Murphy just smiled and pulled a piece of bacon out of her sandwich. 

The rest of lunch went peacefully, with us nattering back and forth about the office layout and where her much smaller and less cool desk was going to fit. We caught up, and it was great. Something that had been missing that I hadn't let myself think about. It was only as I was walking her out that a problem arose.

We were in the front hall when Marcone came out of his office. He saw us and started to take a step forward, the smug smile firmly in place. Murphy looked at him, glanced around and saw that it was just the three of us. One second she was beside me, the next she had Marcone on his face on the tile, one arm twisted up behind his back, his other hand was around the hilt of one of his knives. Murphy couldn't see it, being on top of him and all, but I could.

"Murphy! Let him go! Marcone, don't you dare!" I didn't have any of my focusing objects, but I pulled a little power together. I was going to smack them both if I had to.

Murphy shifted her grip and leaned down, kneeling so she could whisper in Marcone's ear. He let go of his knife and as I got to them Murphy let his wrist go. Her voice rose to conversational volume.

"-cut your balls off and feed them to you. Got it?"

"Very much so, Karrin." Murphy started to rise, and Marcone moved in an inhumanly smooth motion, taking her legs out from under her. She smacked into a roll and came up a few feet away. By the time she did, Marcone was on his feet, not a hair out of place. They assessed each other over the distance. I looked at them both and then threw my hands up in disgust.

"I'm disowning you both! I don't know either of you!"


	22. Chapter 22

Week 36

"Get back here you little shit!" The faerie currently flying off with my slice of pizza wasn't one of the Guard. I could tell by the way it wasn't wearing either a little suit or a flapper dress. Also, the fact that it was stealing my lunch was a big clue. I thought about shouting for Toot, but I'd be damned if I couldn't deal with the little thief myself. The spell I muttered to myself was something I'd been working on with Molly. She couldn't generate a large wave of force like I could with my magic. Molly wouldn't ever be able to toss a car onto someone, which was probably a good thing. But if she could learn to generate and control a small force bubble, or even several of them, she could use them to defend herself.

The little globes were barely visible, about the size of marbles, but clear like soap bubbles. With a wave of my hand the four of them shot off after the little bastard, clipping a wing on the way by. He rolled and ducked, losing a bit of sauce onto the rug in the process and I growled. Now I had to catch him too, or I'd look like I was trying to blame my spill on a non-existent faerie menace.

I didn't aim directly for him, I didn't want to kill him. The globes moved at my direction, sort of herding him in a manner similar to what I'd seen the Alphas use when they were hunting. It only took a few minutes to get him to where I wanted him. His refusal to drop my fucking pizza hampered him, slowed him down. He thought he saw an escape, an air vent in the wall and went for it, a high, tinny voice calling back 'neener neener' as he went. As the mature person that I am, I didn't let it bother me. Especially since the 'air vent' he flew into was actually one of Mister's favorite nap spots.

Mister's deep throated growl reverberated out into the room, followed by an ear splitting scream. The faerie thief zipped back out, without the pizza, and flew right into the storage jar I was holding over the entrance. It'd been designed by a black wizard. Something I'd picked up and hadn't figured out how to dispose of yet. It was carved with sigils, permanently imbued with power. Once a faerie went into it, they couldn't get out and they couldn't work any magic. Not until I let them out. Like a portable circle, sort of. I slammed the lid closed, it did have air holes, and shook the jar. The little faerie clung to the side of the jar, little plastic boots scrabbling for purchase.

"Toot!" I put the jar down on a shelf and reached into Mister's hole. The air vent was a left over from before Marcone moved in and had the place renovated. It didn't go anywhere, having been blocked off. I'd opened it up thinking I could use it to store some light sensitive materials, but Mister had jumped into it before I could start making use of it and everything I put in there wound up pushed out again. I'd given up that fight and let Mister have it. I think it reminded him of a cave. I had to wrestle Mister for the remnants of my slice. The faerie dropping it was probably what had saved his thieving little life. I tossed the carcass of my lunch back onto my plate and tapped my foot, irate.

"My Lady?" When Toot appeared, he looked subdued and a little sheepish. I bit back on my anger. It was not Toot's fault, and I was not going to take it out on him. His suit was dirty, and ripped. It had to have just happened, because I'd seen him that morning and it had been clean and neat.

"General Toot, I've caught this intruder. He's a faerie, which makes him your responsibility." I tapped on the lid of the jar. "Is there something going on?"

Toot flew right up to the jar, a look of anger on his little face. It surprised me. Toot was a happy, carefree kind of guy. I'd never seen him more than miffed before.

"You're a liar and a cheat! You lose!" The little faerie in the jar, who had been sitting on his tiny butt jumped up, wings humming angrily.

"I didn't cheat! How are you impugn my honor! I passed your test! I stole the Pizza!"

"Oh yeah? Then where is it, cheater? I don't see any Pizza in there with you! Liar! Cheater! We shall have to feed you to the Dread Beast Mister!"

"Woah, woah, wait!" I stuck a hand between Toot and the jar, interrupting the screaming contest. For my eardrums' sake if nothing else. They were starting to hit dog whistle register. "Toot, what's going on?"

"This- this miscreant," Way too much time spent with Hendricks. "wanted to join the Za Lady's Guard! He said he was a thief. A good thief. A sneaky thief. The best there was. So I made him a test. And he failed." Toot leaned against the back of my hand, going up on his tip toes to shout at the little faerie. "Fail! Because you cheated!"

"I did not cheat! You just said I had to steal Pizza. You didn't say any other rules!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and wished for a beer. Or something stronger. I eyed Little Maggie, or where I thought her head probably was at the moment. "When you get out here," I muttered, "you're never allowed to spend time with the Guard."

"Toot, why do you think- hey, what's your name?" The jar faerie turned to face me and tugged off his little hat, letting the bright orange hair on his head spring free and stand straight up. He had an itty bitty mohawk! I bit my lip and resisted the bubbling laugh inside me. His outfit, plus the mohawk, kind of made him look like Mr. T, from the A-Team. Did they still make those dolls? I shook my head. I wanted to know where the little fae got their clothes, but I was half afraid to ask some days.

"I'm called Jax, great Za Lady!" And then he gave me a bow. He fell over, since he slipped on the smooth glass, but up to that point it was a very well executed bow.

"Thank you. So Toot, why do you say Jax cheated?"

"He distracted us." Toot looked down, away from me. I sighed.

"That's a good thief trick, Toot. Get you looking one way while they sneak in another. And he did manage to steal my pizza. He just didn't manage to get away from me. Did you swear he could be a member of the guard if he stole some pizza?" Toot heaved a very deep sigh for such a small chest.

"Yes. But he didn't make it. He got caught. So he can't join." Jax looked like he was either going to cry or run Toot through. Maybe both.

"How about this." Both fae looked up at me. "Jax can join the Guard under a trial basis." Jax jumped up, shouting and whacked his head on the lid of the jar. He landed on his butt in a silver shower of sparkles. "A trial basis. That means you're not a full member. You've got to prove that you can work with the rest of the Guard, take orders, that sort of thing. Let's say...a year. At the end of the year, we'll decide whether or not you really want to be in the Guard. Okay?"

"Oh, yes, my Lady! I'll be very, very good!"

"Toot?"

"Fine. But he has to listen to me. I'm the general and I'm in charge."

"That's right. If he can't follow orders, he doesn't get to stay." 

I opened the lid of the jar and Jax buzzed out. He landed in front of Toot. The two of them had a fast, high pitched conversation and then flew off. I closed the jar up and slipped it back into its space on the shelf.

"I'm running the faerie militia. How scary is that?"

"I think it's cute." Marcone stood in the half open door, leaning against the doorjamb. He came into the room, shutting the door behind him. My mini-lab was a work in progress, but it was coming along nicely. I had all of the books I used most often in there, as well as the ingredients for all of my standard spells. Bob was currently sitting in a box, hidden. Eb didn't tend to just wander in, professional courtesy and all, but I'd hate to get Bob smashed because of a mistake.

"You would." He crossed the room and I bent down to kiss him. When we pulled apart, he placed his hands on my stomach. There was a moment of waiting, and then Maggie kicked, right into his palm. "She's got your aim, Marcone."

"Mmmhmm."

"You don't have to sound so insufferably pleased about it."

"Yes, I do." Maggie took his continued touch as an invitation and started tangoing or something. I put up with it until an elbow hit my spine, then pulled his hands off and stepped away.

"Toot said that Jax distracted the Guard. Did anything happen?"

"Someone set off a bunch of those little popper firecrackers near the greenhouse, which is apparently the Guard's base of operations." I looked at him, surprised.

"They've got a base of operations?"

"Mm. So Mr. Hendricks informs me. No harm was done. I would guess the poppers are the faerie version of flashbangs. It was a very effective distraction."

"Yeah. Toot was pissed." I started to bend, a little, to move something to a different shelf. It was kind of flammable which meant it needed to be on a high shelf. Where little crawling babies couldn't get to it. The cramp hit me and I froze. It startled me, not really painful, I'd certainly had worse cramps during an average period, but I hadn't been expecting it. I took a sharp breath in and held it. The pain came again, slow and aching. "Shit."

"What is it?" Marcone took a step toward me and I held out a hand, straightening as I did. He stopped, watching me intently.

"Hang on a sec." I took a breath in and out, waiting. Another cramp. What had Holly said about labor and false labor? Crap. I couldn't remember. I knew I knew the answer, I just couldn't think of it through the 'holy crap, baby!' that was running through my head. "Um. I can't think. Do you remember how to tell if it's real labor?" He met my eyes. And in any other circumstance, seeing the little flare of worry and panic run through John Marcone's face would have made me happy. Proof that he wasn't as perfect as he liked everyone to think he was. In this case, it just made a part of my brain want to start running around in a panicked circle.

"Ah-"

"Get Hendricks. Go! Go get him now!" Marcone vanished from the room and I stood there and didn't move. When he came back, Hendricks in tow, I was in pretty much the same spot. The cramps were coming and going, still like slow waves of almost pain. They came at seemingly random intervals. I'd tried counting the time between them, but there wasn't a pattern.

"Dresden."

"Cujo."

"Where's the pain?"

"In my stomach." Dumbass.

"Be specific. Front of your abdomen, or your back?" I waited until the pain came again and paid attention.

"Front."

"Has it been there the whole time? Or did it start in your back?"

"It hasn't changed at all. They're slow and not really painful. Kind of like mild cramps. But doesn't labor start that way? Am I going into labor now? It's too early!" I wasn't panicking. I wasn't. My voice was just getting a little higher than usual.

"Calm down. You're fine." Cujo came over to me and put one huge hand in the middle of my back, taking my other hand in his. "We're going to walk for a second. See if that changes anything." I gave him an incredulous look, but we walked. We went around the room a few times, and by the second or third circuit, the cramps had stopped completely.

"They're gone. It stopped." Cujo grunted and we stopped walking around the room.

"False labor then. Braxton Hicks contractions, Dresden. You might be feeling them off and on now." He let go of me. "When the real contractions come, you'll know it. They don't got away when you start moving, and they keep getting stronger. Didn't your midwife and the doctor tell you about this?"

"Yes, yes they did. But you try thinking straight when you think you're going to have a baby any second!" Hendricks just gave me a look, and I gave it right back to him. I was not going to feel bad for this one. I kept my head when people were throwing black magic at me or trying to shoot me. I could be excused for having a moment over this.

Week 39

A broad, familiar hand slipped between my thighs, fingers reaching and spreading. I reached back and grabbed at Marcone's arm, nails digging into his skin.

"I told you, if you even think about putting your dick near me, I will break it the fuck off."

"That's not my dick, it's my hand."

"The principle applies."

"Sorry." I let him go and he withdrew. There was a second of silence, and then Marcone started shaking my shoulder.

"Harry. Harry." I pulled the pillow over my head and kicked backward at him. Of course his legs weren't where they should be, so I hit nothing. "Harry!"

"What?!" I didn't move the pillow. I had been up and down all night, and I was tired. If the house wasn't on fire, it might soon be.

"Harry, you need to get up."

"No, I need to go to sleep, asshole." I settled myself to do just that, clenching my legs. There was something...slippery. I blinked in my little cave and wriggled. There wasn't a whole lot of it, but there was most definitely something there. I pulled the pillow off my head and looked. Marcones fingers were coated with a thick, sticky fluid. There was a little bit of blood mixed in, and I pressed down on the panic that threatened.

This was normal. Hendicks had gone through my pregnancy book and highlighted and bookmarked the important sections. This was normal. It could still be days until I actually went into labor.

"I'm not ready. I'm not."


	23. Chapter 23

I was not panicking. It might have looked like panic, from the outside. But it wasn't. It was a perfectly rational response to realizing that you were about to shove a tiny person out of your body.

I rolled out of bed and yanked on a giant pair of sweats. By the time Marcone got his own pants on I was half-way down the hall.

"Where are you going?" I grabbed the banister and started to go down the stairs as quickly as I could. It gave Marcone plenty of time to catch up to me.

"To get Hendricks." His eyebrows went up and down quickly.

"I see. Is there any particular reason you need Mr. Hendricks?"

"Yeah. I'm having a baby. Hendricks is the nearest sane person. Therefore, I want Hendricks." Marcone got ahead of me on the stairs and stopped, making me stop.

"I'll go get Mr. Hendricks. Why don't you go lie down."

"I don't want to go lie down. I'm not a fucking invalid here! I can walk down some goddamn steps when and if I damn well want to!" My temper might have snapped a little.

"Of course you can. But I can get Mr. Hendricks faster. Right?" I narrowed my eyes at him. He had on his bland, friendly face. Jerk. "Just think about it for a second, Harry. You can go into the nursery, lie down and maybe get some sleep. I'll have James up here in just a few minutes."

"Who the hell is-" My brain caught up with my mouth and I remembered that Hendricks' first name was James. No one called him that, though, because the jokes had gotten old years ago. And no one wanted to be on Cujo's bad side. "Hmph. Fine." I reversed, turning around and heading back up the stairs. I didn't have far to go, really. I'd only made it down maybe six steps before Marcone had stopped me.

True to his word, Marcone had Hendricks up into the nursery in under ten minutes. By that point, I'd sort of half calmed down. I was sitting on the bed we'd set up directly in the center of the circle and all the wards. The plastic under the sheets crackled as I shifted my butt around. The candles I'd lit flicked and guttered as Hendricks came through the door. Followed by Marcone and Eb. I gave Marcone a little beckoning gesture.

"I didn't say to get Eb, John." I looped an arm around his waist as he came to stand next to me. Eb started walking the dormant circle, checking to make certain that nothing was lying across it to disrupt it.

"He's an old man. He never sleeps and the guest room is right down the hall from Mr. Hendricks' room. I could hardly help it."

"I'm pretty sure I don't believe you. Have you two been talking behind my back?" Marcone grinned and placed one hand over his heart. The smile made him look like a little boy, trying to get away with something.

"Me? Of course not."

"Liar." I singsonged it at him. Hendricks loomed to my other side.

"Boss said your mucus plug went?"

"Ah, yeah. Ew, but yeah."

"Any contractions yet?"

"Noooo..." He sighed.

"Until you start having contractions, you're not in labor, Harry."

"But they could start any second. Any. Second." It all suddenly felt very urgent. I saw Eb out of the corner of my eye, and he was starting to double check ingredients for the spells I'd asked him to run. Yeah. So there, Cujo. I wasn't the only one feeling a crunch, here.

"I'll bet you a hundred bucks they don't start for at least five hours." I met his eyes for a second, then looked away.

"You're on."

~

"You-" I took a breath just as the contraction started. They weren't really bad, yet. They still sucked. "-lose!" Hendricks just looked at me and shook his head. The contractions had started maybe half an hour ago. Three hours after Hendricks had sworn they wouldn't start any time soon. I was torn between feeling victorious and wishing he'd been right.

The contraction ended and I bared my teeth in a grin. They'd started out like mild cramps and were slowly getting stronger, though they still didn't last very long at all. Maybe a minute each, with ten minutes between contractions. Holly had been called, and was on her way to the house.

"I told you you should have had that little girl stay in the house." Eb was crouched over by the window, adding some extra oomph to the wards over there.

"Labor takes hours. Especially the first baby. She'll be here in plenty of time."

"You say so." Eb wandered over to where I was standing, fiddling with one of the stuffed unicorns that had mysteriously appeared a few days ago. I was blaming Marcone. God knew I'd lost my fanciful ideas of the beasts. "Wizards are different, is all I was trying to tell you. But you wouldn't listen."

I grabbed his shoulder as another contraction hit. That was definitely not ten minutes. More like five. Pressure started to build, and it was really fucking uncomfortable. I grunted and my fingers dug into Eb.

"Holy shit! John!" Marcone was there, grabbing my other arm. I clamped down on him too. "Son of a fucking bitch! What the hell, people?!"

"Breathe Harry. Just-"

"Fuck you. Fuck you very much." I let go of them as the contraction passed. "I'm going to go lay down on the motherfucking bed." I got there, Marcone and Eb trailing me. Hendricks helped me up onto the bed and I sank back against the pillows. "This looks so much easier on tv." I was whining and I knew it. "A woman's pregnant, she's walking around and her water breaks. Fade out and then she's pushing. Ten minutes later, baby." I glared down at my stomach. "You hear that? Ten. Minutes. Baby."

"That's Hollywood, Dresden. Your labor's going really fast. My sister Tonia was in labor for nineteen hours with her first."

"Nineteen-?" I shook my head. "No. Hell no." Another contraction hit and I scrunched up, fingers digging into the sheets as I pushed.

"Don't do that!" Hendricks grabbed me and I growled at him. A pulse of energy went out of me and his short red hair stood on end.

"Don't do what?"

"Push! Don't."

"How else is she supposed to get out?" He held up his hands in surrender.

"I know you want to push. But it might be too early. You've gotta wait until the midwife gets here and can see how far dilated you are." We looked at each other. I could see the thought cross his brain at about the same time it crossed mine. We both shook our heads and Hendricks took a step back from the bed.

"Not happening, Dresden."

"Yeah. So very much not happening. We'll wait."

~

Holly got there maybe twenty minutes later. I had never before been so happy to see someone who wasn't either bringing me food, drugs, or sex. That should probably have been a worrying thing, but whatever.

"Finally!" I breathed out after the giant squeezing my body let go.

"How're we doing?" Holly was already snapping on a pair of latex gloves and pulling the sheet that I'd been kicking around off of my feet. Behind her, Marcone shut the door and Eb took his place, willing the circle into life. The air pressure changed, tightened and I could see the soft, nearly unnoticeable glow of the wards as they activated. A little knot of anxiety relaxed. At least that was taken care of.

"We are done with this shit. If you don't tell me I can push, I'll be honest, I'm probably going to do it any-" Contraction. I gritted my teeth and tried to remember the breathing I was supposed to be doing. Marcone was doing his coach-y best, and I had a flashback to our first meeting. It'd been annoying then. It wasn't any better now. "-way."

"Let me take a look and then we'll see where we are. If you start pushing too early you'll wear yourself out and you won't be able to push when we really need it." Hendicks and Eb both looked elsewhere as she flipped up my nightgown and spread me legs. I rolled my eyes at them. Cool, gentle little fingers probed at me and I took the opportunity to close my eyes and try to get a measure of control on myself. I'd had training to fight pain, to ignore it and work through it. I hadn't tried to use any of it because there were always consequences and honestly, women did this all the time. I'd underestimated just how much it was going to hurt. It didn't come close to the burns on my arm or any of the beatings I'd taken, but it still hurt and it was going to get worse, I thought.

"So?" Marcone's hand was on my arm, his voice wonderfully rough.

"Oh. Well, huh." I opened my eyes to look down my body at Holly. "This is so very- you're fully dilated. When did you say the contractions started?"

"Maybe an hour ago?" Another contraction. This time, Marcone slid an arm around behind me as I came up off the pillows.

"Okay, push." Thank. God. I pushed. I pushed as hard as I could with the contraction, and the effort left me sagging against Marcone once it stopped. "Good, good. We're...um..." Holly shook her head and looked around the room. "It shouldn't be too much longer, actually. I'm sorry. I've just never. Never seen anyone go this fast."

"I am a special, special person."

One minute blurred into the next for a while. We fell into a pattern of contraction and exertion and then brief moments of rest. It didn't take long, really. It just felt like it. Finally, there was a sharp pain and then the feeling of relief, of something easing. Rustling noises, and thick, gloopy suctioning sound and then a high, full cry hit me.

"Almost there, Harry. One more push and she's out." Maggie's crying cut through the room and I followed the next contraction, pushing. It was easier, and the terribly stretched feeling eased as Holly pulled. I felt Maggie leave my body.

"Hot. Fucking. Damn!" I let my head fall back to the pillows, done. I was done. Someone else could run things for a while, because I had officially had enough.

"Here you go. Cut right there." I heard the mushy snip of the scissors. Marcone cutting through the umbilical cord. More noises, all accompanied by Maggie's indignant wails. My rest was cut short as more contractions shot through me, but they weren't bad, compared to the last couple with Maggie. Just the rest of the business coming out.

I ignored it all as I opened my eyes and watched Holly hand Maggie, now cleaned and wrapped up in a little blanket to Marcone. His eyes were bright as he stared at her, his arms awkward in their grip on her. Her cries died out as she stared up into her fathers face. I bit my lip so I wouldn't laugh at him. He kind of looked like he was holding a bomb, something that would explode any second. But the pure desire in his eyes, the happiness I could feel coming from him made me grin harder, even through the slowly lessening pains.

"Hey. Share the baby." Marcone looked up as if he'd just remembered that there were other people in the room. He made his way over and bent, carefully handing Maggie to me. She squirmed for a few seconds and then our eyes caught. Her eyes were a muddy, unclear color and I found myself hoping that they'd be green. I looked away before too long. I wasn't sure what a Soulgaze would do to someone that young. I brought her up to my chest and bent my head to whisper in her delicate little ear.

"Welcome home, Margaret Amanda Dresden."


End file.
